


Clipped

by subducting



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Escaped Experiment!AU, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Trauma, Wing AU, Wings, hurt/comfort/hurt again, thirteen is a duckling who imprints on the obreins but also shes furiously angry, this is basically maximum ride but with thirteen and more angst, wing!13, winged doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22519342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subducting/pseuds/subducting
Summary: Experiment Thirteen has been running for a long time, but circumstances force her into an uneasy alliance with a group of humans. When old friends and enemies turn up, will her newly found, tenuous trust in Ryan, Yaz and Graham stand up to the fear of being trapped? Or will she be grounded forever?
Comments: 218
Kudos: 189





	1. Prologue

Experiment Thirteen had been on the run for a long time, a long long time, but it still chilled her to the bone when she heard pursuers. She was a light sleeper, when she slept at all, and the sound of shouts and approaching footsteps snapped her from an uneasy doze at the foot of a tree. In an instant, electric panic had jolted her body upright, as violently as if someone had applied defibrillators to her. Her muscles bunched and she was running before more than a second had elapsed, shaken into abrupt, terrified wakefulness. She was so used to running it was her first instinct.

She pounded the ground with her legs, eyebrows knitted together as hazel eyes fixed on the path ahead, never risking looking back. She had her ears for that, and the vibrations she could feel in the earth below her feet. They were gaining- why had she chosen to fall asleep in a woodland? The treeline was fast approaching, and she felt her heart sink so fast it nearly stilled her to a halt as she saw torchlights from that direction too. An abrupt, sharp breath was snatched from her chest as she swerved, heading parallel to the treeline and fighting down real, true panic. Panic, she knew, would get her killed, or worse.

She was running out of ground- the treeline and her pursuers were closing on her, and she realised she had only one choice, the only thing they wouldn’t expect. It might just buy her enough time. The surprise would only give her a couple of seconds, but that was all she needed.

She turned sharply and let out a feral yell, leaping directly towards the flashlights. As she jumped, she swept her wings out and forwards, slamming them into the dark mass of bodies as she kicked her legs violently. There were shouts of surprise, and they fell beneath her feathers. A moment later and they had recovered, but she had broken their line and was running free. She just had to get into the air and-

A bang made her heart leap in her chest- it physically moved, she thought, as she ducked. They didn’t usually resort to bullets. Didn’t want to damage their precious _experiment_ , she thought bitterly, dodging more that peppered the ground at her retreating heels. Did they trust their aim, or had they finally decided she wasn’t worth the trouble? Thirteen swept her wings out purposefully and bunched her legs, strides elongating as she started powerful downstrokes. It was always difficult, taking off from the ground, but she had lots of practise at running starts. She would be airborne in a few more moments, and they’d never be able to hit her at that speed-

Another bang sounded and she cried out in shock, feeling fire tear through her abdomen. It hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced, and that was saying a lot. Air finally swept under her wings and she soared upwards, leaving the ground behind as easily as an autumn leaf. Her side hurt, but the adrenaline was keeping her moving, wings stiffening to catch thermals as she was swept away into the night.

She was free again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title! Obvs this is brief but I couldn't wait to get this little tease up. Very hype about this one!


	2. be careful making wishes in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubris is a hell of a thing, and Experiment Thirteen thinking she'd got away cleanly nearly becomes her undoing. Luckily, she runs into a very, very kindly nurse and her husband, who help out our grounded hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for needles and other sharp stuff, descriptions of medical procedures involving bullet wounds.

“Stupid!”

Her voice, berating herself, was almost inaudible over the wind. She’d been so sure they wouldn't have a hope of getting hitting her once she was airborne, but as she had escaped, one of them had actually managed to get a shot at her. The injured wing was still carrying her, but between that and the hole in her abdomen she was losing strength and altitude fast.

Experiment Thirteen spiralled gracelessly down in the darkening skies over Sheffield. Or maybe it was her vision that was going. Every wing beat was more and more laborious, and her left finally became too painful to flap, and she plummeted towards the streets below. She worked her right wing uselessly, but all that did was send her into a delirious spiral, falling a few hundred metres like a maple seed in autumn.

When she landed, she landed with a crash, a falling star, somehow threading the needle of high-rise buildings and falling into an alleyway. Her fall was barely broken by a stack of empty cardboard boxes and the wind was knocked out of her. She lay still for a moment, marvelling at the fact that she was still alive and starting to assess the damage, when she heard approaching footsteps.

Instantly she was on her feet, panic surging through her as she pulled her wings close to her. The vanished beneath her stolen, tattered suit, moments before a pair of faces appeared through the gloom. She eyed them warily, one hand gripping her side and another bracing against the nearby wall. The brickwork was cold and slick with moisture and she slipped, stumbling a couple of steps forwards into a doubled over crouch, unable to straighten as her body involuntarily curled around the pain in her middle.

“You alright, love?” one voice asked her, and she squinted up, assessing her would-be assailants. They had stopped a little ways away, and they didn’t look especially threatening- a middle aged couple, one with an expression painted in concern, the other maybe a little wary, but certainly not dangerous. She opened her mouth uselessly, wondering how and when she would tell if it was a trick. It was awfully convenient that there was a welcoming committee exactly where she’d landed.

“I’m fine,” was what she tried to say, but the words came out in a slurred mumble and the ground gave another pull, bringing her to her knees. She was sure it was a bad idea to pass out here, but she didn't seem to be being given the choice. Desperately, panicked, she glanced up at the couple. The man looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “Little too much to drink, love?” he asked, as the woman took a half a step closer. The movement drew Thirteen’s eyes and she stared in blank, open terror, trying to shuffle away from the woman’s approach but only managing to sway slightly on the spot.

“Did- you just fall?” the woman asked uncertainly, paused on one knee, as if she sensed that getting too close would make things worse. Thirteen's eyes fixed on her face. She had a kind face, but that meant very little. People with kind faces had done extremely cruel things to her before. Thinking better of them just made it harder. But she could feel the strength leaking from her like the blood that was seeping between her fingertips, unnoticed in the dark.

“Should I call an ambulance?” asked the man, and Thirteen’s wild eyes turned to him in a panic. “No!” she barked, shaking her head, then regretted it as her vision started swimming even more than before, “No ambulance, no hospital.” She made an attempt to stand, and the woman mirrored her movements, reaching out to steady her as she inevitably wobbled. The contact made her jump violently, and her hand came away from her side, smearing warm wetness against the woman’s coat.

The sudden release of pressure set off fresh bleeding and she gasped, eyes rolling up in her head. She was vaguely aware of strong, confident hands on her shoulders, and murmurs of horror. “No hos’pl,” she insisted, eyelids fluttering helplessly as she spiralled into unconsciousness.

* * *

Thirteen felt a lot like she had when she’d been drugged previously, but with the added delight of searing hot pain in her midriff and her poor concealed wing. Her eyelids were heavy and she struggled to the surface of a cloying lake of tiredness, breathing becoming harsh and ragged as she drew lungfuls of air. “Don’t be taking me to hospital,” she mumbled blearily, realising she was being moved.

“We aint,” the man grunted, as she was deposited on something soft. She let out a gasp of pain as she collapsed, and instantly the woman’s face swam into view, intelligent eyes examining her intently. “My name’s Grace,” she said, “That’s Graham, my husband. You’re in our house, I’m a nurse. I can help you, but you need to tell me- have you taken anything?” Her voice didn’t allow for any dishonesty, and Thirteen shook her head, trying to sit up. She felt cold, her forehead soaked with sweat. “Didn’t- ‘m not-” she wasn’t thinking clearly, but she still knew enough to be afraid. She was completely at these people’s mercy, and she’d only just gotten out.

The man- Graham- appeared with a bottle of water that was dripping. “Drink something,” Grace ordered, but Thirteen just stared at the liquid mistrustfully. “It’s water,” Graham said, eyebrows knitting together exasperatedly. The blonde just kept staring, and he sighed. “Fine, _look_ ,” he said, and sipped some himself. “See?”

Thirteen licked her lips and nodded, understanding the logic. Years of having to patch up her own injuries on the run had taught her that replenishing fluids was one of the most important things in surviving. She winced as she stretched slightly to take the bottle, once again disturbing her wound. Grace had vanished off somewhere as Thirteen put the bottle to her lips and drained it rapidly, the cold chasing off a little of the fog dampening her senses. Just enough so that she could catch the slightest hint of a smell that she picked out immediately.

She stood instantly, ignoring Graham’s protests, as the harsh smell of antiseptic chemicals burned her nose. She had to get out- memories rose like a tidal wave of panic- cages, confinement, pain, suffering. Grace’s face appeared around a corner, looking concerned as Thirteen stumbled around, and she moved forwards, wafting more of the smell towards her. She backed away from the older woman, shaking her head in panic and moaning, eyes darting around as she tried to find the exit.

“Woah, woah hey, it’s okay love, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Grace murmured slowly, putting her hands out, “I just wanna take a look at that. You’re badly hurt, and if you wont go to hospital…”

Thirteen fought rolling nausea at the scent, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes so wide that her whites could probably be seen all the way around. Every single nerve in her body was tugging her towards action, towards a fight, towards running away. Even her wings had started lifting, and she focused hard on tucking them back in, body shaking with the effort of holding her panic down.

“What’s your name?” asked Grace, who still hadn't moved. Thirteen’s glance darted around and she saw that Graham was stood casually but intentionally in the path to the door. Normally they’d be a breeze to overpower and run from, but her limbs were trying to collapse in on her. She wanted to run and fly and hide, and curl up into a ball and scream. It hadn’t been a full twenty-four hours since her latest escape from the labs, and she could almost feel the teeth and guns at her back. Even if these two were honestly trying to help, how long until she was tracked down, bound and dragged back again. Her heart hammered wildly but she knew that was working against her now- adrenaline wouldn’t heal a bullet wound, and the blood would be flowing that much faster.

“Fix me,” she begged harshly, eyeing Grace, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”

Grace exchanged an anxious glance with Graham, and something unreadable passed between the pair. “Love, I’m a nurse,” Grace said, the kindness in her voice painful, twisting in Thirteen’s chest. The woman smiled warmly and gestured to the kitchen. Thirteen took a step before her legs gave out again. Grace was there, lifting her gently until one of the blonde’s arms was slung across her shoulders, and together they went into the kitchen.

Thirteen collapsed into the straight backed chair, breathing in pained gasps. Grace knelt down and started to peel back the fabric of the borrowed shirt, wincing. “I need to check your back,” she murmured, looking up into Thirteen’s face. Thirteen felt, horrifyingly, tears of panic starting in her eyes, and she shook her head, a silent plea. “I have to,” Grace said, gently placing a gloved hand on Thirteen’s back. She froze, clearly feeling something that shouldn’t have been there under the suit.

“What-” she murmured disbelievingly, and Thirteen felt herself ready to unravel, sheer blind terror overriding any instinct she had. It was all she could manage to hold herself still as Grace slowly began to remove the jacket. She didn’t protest, but she didn’t help either, and Grace had to gently move her arms to her it off her.

Both of the couple made noises of shock as the jacket fell away, revealing Thirteen’s wings. They were tucked tightly to her back, the left throbbing painfully near where it joined her shoulder. She was sure the bullet had only clipped it- if she hadn’t also been shot in the side it would likely have healed on it’s own in a few days- but she still felt the rising panic of not being able to fly, of being trapped on the ground, trapped where humans were seeing her wings-

Both of them were now searching her face, and she opened her mouth helplessly, words failing her.

“Alright, angel,” Grace said, recovering first. “Don’t talk. It’s okay. We’ll take care of you, yeah?” the woman’s voice was full of… reverence. “I’m not an angel,” Thirteen said, voice quiet and tight with panic. She was terrified beyond imagining, but she wouldn’t let them think she was something she wasn’t. Graham shook his head in her peripheral vision and she turned her head to him.

“What _are_ you, then?” he said, seemingly unable to stop himself.

Grace was gently easing her fingers under the feathers of her wing, trying to examine the spot in her back opposite to the wound on her front. Thirteen absently lifted her wing and the two humans gasped at the movement. She turned her head to try and catch what Grace was doing, but to her surprise the woman was already back at her work by the time she’d looked around.

“You- you’re a nurse?” she asked tightly, fighting down more panic as the woman returned her attention to the injury on the front, and Grace nodded. “Admittedly, bullet wounds aren’t really my speciality,” she said, sharing another knowing look with Graham, “But I know enough. And I can see why you don’t especially want to visit A & E,” she added with a wry smile.

Suddenly, the nurse was a flurry of movement, starting to pull supplies together. She handed Graham a bag and moved his arm into the air, then turned to Thirteen, brandishing a needle. Fear clutched at her insides again and she quailed. Needles contained sedatives, or worse. She would lose consciousness and wake up in a cage.

“I need to get some fluids in you,” Grace said by way of explanation, “May I have your arm?”

She could see the impatience humming behind the woman’s ever-so-casual request, but slowly, she uncurled one arm and held it out, panic and exhaustion clawing dark holes into the edge of her vision. The needle went in without complaint and Grace let out a sigh of relief, turning her attention once again to the wound, now picking up a pair of elongated tweezers. Above her, Graham chuckled slightly.

“Massive hole in your side and you’re scared of a little needle?” he asked. His expression was kind but she blanched anyway. “You don’t know where I’ve been,” she muttered, gritting her teeth as she felt Grace start to work at getting shrapnel out of her wound. The amusement in Graham’s face faded slightly, but his eyes still twinkled with interest. “Guessing you’re not sent from heaven, then?” he asked, somewhat wistfully.

The notion was so breathtakingly opposite to the lab she’d escaped from that a hysterical, bitter laugh escaped from Thirteen. It was a chilling noise that left the kitchen silent, save for the quick clink of the occasional bit of metal falling into a tray as Grace worked.

“You never told us your name,” said Graham at length. Thirteen blinked blearily at him, the shock and exhaustion catching up with her. “Experiment Thirteen,” she mumbled automatically, without even thinking. His expression twitched with disapproval, and Grace made a small noise in her throat, accompanied by a long sigh. “You- you aint got a _name_?” Graham asked, baffled. Thirteen frowned. “I do. Experiment Thirteen.”

Graham had started to say something else, but Grace interrupted him by standing. “I need to sterilize the wound and stitch you up,” she announced, looking tiredly down at Thirteen with a smile. “You’re doing amazing, you’re holding up way better than a normal patient would.”

Once again, unexpected honesty loosened Thirteen’s tongue. “I heal faster than humans,” she explained, then started at her own admission. “Could’ve gotten along with this fine if they hadn’t got me in the wing, too.” She wasn’t entirely sure of that, but she certainly wouldn’t have ended up in this situation if she’d been able to fly alright. Grace just pursed her lips thoughtfully, nodding.

“Well, I’m still going to sterilize it,” she announced, “And then I’ll take a look at your wing, if you like?”

Thirteen frowned again. “If I-” she shook her head. It didn’t make any sense. Maybe it was the blood loss. She’d be able to spot their motive when she’d recovered, she was sure. She hoped she’d be well fast enough to avoid whatever fate they had planned for her.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked, eyes wide, “What- what do you want?”

The pair exchanged alarmed glances and Grace sighed again, expression unbearably soft. “We want to help you, Thirteen,” she said, kneeling down and touching her knee gently. Thirteen just gazed at her wordlessly, and the woman turned and retrieved a different tool. The blonde felt sickness was over her again at the sight of the cruel hook of the needle- and she reached out to grip the round table stiffly. “Do it,” she breathed, fighting down panic and trying to still her wings, which had started to rise, unbidden.

Grace worked quickly and efficiently and Thirteen felt herself relax infinitesimally as the wound was closed up and dressed. One fewer disaster to deal with in an evening of disasters. Grace replaced the bag and got Graham to bring the coat stand in from the hall to replace his arms when he complained, and Thirteen almost found herself smiling. They had such an ease about their relationship that she envied deeply. The almost-smile turned into a bitterly downturned frown, and a deep, empty space opened in her chest, howling to be filled. She usually managed to ignore it, filling it instead with the euphoria of freedom, or the rage of captivity, but this time she had neither. She averted her eyes as they caught her staring and shut her expression off, studying her own knees stoically.

“Let’s get a look at this wing, then,” Grace said, voice full of contained curiosity. Thirteen dutifully extended her left wing, wincing. The bullet had taken off some down and torn a little flesh but mercifully had avoided the fragile bones. Those would be a real pain to heal, but the injury did feel superficial, and Grace agreed. “Just a little antiseptic and dressing and that’ll be okay,” she said, before pausing and making a face. “I think. I’m not a vet, but-” she stopped, suddenly looking worriedly at Thirteen, but Thirteen just barked out a hoarse laugh. She was feeling sleepy, and as Grace dressed her wing she felt her eyelids slipping shut, head lolling to the side.

“Thirteen?” Grace murmured softly, and she started. She had nearly fallen asleep, and that was odd. How could she feel so safe? She blinked and stretched, wincing as her injuries throbbed. Kunckling her eyes, she stood, legs quaking. She did her best to set them straight but they wobbled and she grabbed the back of the chair she’d just vacated for support. “Th-Thank you,” she stammered through a yawn, “‘d best be going now,” she started towards the door, but Grace moved in front of her anxiously. “Woah,” she said, shaking her head, “You can’t just go wandering off now!”

  
Thirteen looked at her blankly. She didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t- she didn’t know what was coming for the missing experiment. Or maybe she did and she was trying to get her to stay put until they got here. She strained her ears but nothing reached them but the quiet hum of the fridge. “I can’t stay,” she said simply, “I mean- thanks for- you know, patching me up and all, seriously I owe you, but-”

“Listen, mate, you’re not getting far on foot,” Graham sighed. He was half-slumped over the kitchen table, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “I- I get that you don’t feel safe- you’ve been shot- but no-one knows you’re here, right?” Thirteen turned to him, eyebrows knitting together as she scrutinised him intently. How did he know people were looking for her? The hairs rose on the back of her neck and she swallowed nervously, ready to bolt.

“Thirteen,” Grace said voice imploring, “You’re safe. This is our house, and you’re safe here. Please just- at least rest until the morning. We’ll wake you up as _soon_ as it’s light, I promise. But you’re hurt, badly, and you’re not necessarily out of the woods with that abdomen wound yet. I don’t care how super advanced your healing is, you need to stay here, at least for a few hours, and you need to _rest_.”

Thirteen chewed her lip uneasily. If they had wanted to keep her here, Grace could've subdued her at any point. The woman’s IV was still in her arm, tugging slightly and pinching her skin. She would feel a lot better after a little sleep, and she supposed if something did attack the house, she’d be able to get up and out a lot better after rehydrating and resting. But then- then there was the problem of Grace and Graham. She felt a little ashamed that their safety had come as such an afterthought- if they _were_ genuine, she was awfully willing to put them in a lot of harm’s way.

“Wake me up as soon as it gets light,” she mumbled, before grabbing the coat stand attached to her arm and shuffling back into the living room. She collapsed blissfully onto the sofa, her injured wing trailing off from underneath her, and passed out almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee woo its half two am if theres mistakes in this please dont sue me i have no impulse control and ive had a Hell Fortnight


	3. oh you fool, there are rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen meets some new people and gets to slow down for a microsecond. Grace starts to realise how deeply set Thirteen's mistrust goes.

Thirteen could sense that something was wrong almost before she was fully conscious. The feeling never really left her, but the sound of muted, tense voices on the edges of her awareness instantly set her nerves jangling, and she shot upright, mind racing in the pre-dawn. The room looked different in the cold light, emptier somehow. Memories of the previous evening erupted into her brain and she looked down, pulling her shirt up as her breaths gathered pace. The injury was aching dully, but it was nowhere near as painful as it had been. She felt a sharp tug on the inside of her elbow and she winced, ripping the catheter unceremoniously from her arm and standing up.

“I’m going to have to come and take a look, sir,” a voice was insisting calmly, and Thirteen froze, eyes wide. Graham’s voice came back in protest. “Honestly, it’s all sorted, you-” Grace came into the room ahead of him, expression apologetic as she met Thirteen’s eyes, and the startled experiment had little time to react before a new face came into the room, and her heart raced at the sight of the neon yellow uniform. “You called the police?” she whispered, voice devoid of any volume in her shock as she turned to face Grace. Stupid, _stupid_ , of course she shouldn’t have trusted them, she couldn’t trust anyone. Graham held his hands out placatingly, but she was already in motion.

“Thirteen, listen, we didn’t know! We called on the way here last night, we-” she was barely hearing him, so furious at herself for trusting them, at them for letting her, but she got two steps before her legs almost gave out from under her, and she stumbled, almost straight into Grace, who steadied her, expression filled with concern. “Thirteen, please listen. You’re still safe, you’ll be okay, I promise.”

Thirteen looked into the woman’s eyes for a long moment, aching to trust her. It would be so easy. She could hide out here, recover, and be on her way with no-one any the wiser. But she couldn’t, and even if that had been true, a police officer was here now. “I’m not safe anywhere,” she said harshly, shrugging out from Grace’s arms and turning to face the new arrival and Graham, expression icily furious. Graham just looked defeated, his teeth bared in a grimace of resignation, but the new woman was pursing her lips impudently. Thirteen knew she could overpower an average human, even in her weakened state, but this was a police officer, and the experiment’s limbs were still heavy with exhaustion.

“I need to leave,” she said, a note of warning in her voice as she stared the officer down. The officer was just looking at her- her eyes roving over her tattered clothes, her bloodstained shirt, her gaunt features, and-

Thirteen realised a moment too late that she hadn’t put the outsized jacket back on. She could see a wrinkle appear in the woman’s expression as her eyes focused in on her shoulders, clearly seeing the unmistakable curve of a folded wing there. “What the…”

“Are those…” the woman began, looking for the first time since she’d entered the room uncertain. Graham closed his eyes in defeat, and Grace took the opportunity to put herself squarely in front of Thirteen. “She’s injured, and afraid,” the woman said sternly, “And she doesn’t need interrogating right now, she needs rest and safety.” A rush of warmth filled Thirteen’s chest as she blinked at the woman, amazed. Grace turned to her and shot her a wink, before starting to examine the dressings she had placed a night earlier.

“I don’t understand,” the police officer said, and Thirteen rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t,” she said tiredly, running a hand over her face, “And you wont.”

“I- I can help you,” started the woman and Thirteen let out a derisive snort. The young woman looked affronted, and Thirteen gritted her teeth. “What’s your name?” she snapped.

“PC Khan,” came the automatic response, and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Name, not title,” she said, and uncertain brown eyes blinked back at her. “Yasmin Khan,” she murmured, and it suddenly struck Thirteen how young the officer looked, underneath the vest and hat, “Yaz to my friends.”

“Yasmin Khan?” Grace’s voice lit with surprise and recognition as she turned away from examining Thirteen, “You went to school with Ryan!”

“Yeah- oh, oh my god!” A smile split Yaz’s face and it transformed her, the stern and imposing officer melting into a totally different person, “You’re Ryan’s nan!”

“Yeah, this is really touching,” Thirteen interrupted, another unexpected surge of anger flooding her, “But Yasmin, you need to forget you saw me. In fact, you all do, because the second she tells her superiors she’s seen a woman with wings, there’s gonna be all sorts crawling all over this house.” She tugged her shirt decisively back over her injury and turned, looking for her coat.

“But- I can help you,” Yasmin was protesting, and Thirteen had to fight to keep her temper in the face of the young woman’s naivete, “If there’s someone threatening you, we can-”

“You’re not getting it,” Thirteen growled, spinning on the spot and fixing the young woman with a steely glare, “Listen to me. There is nothing you can do. You might want to help. Hell, your _boss_ might want to help. But your bosses bosses bosses are in the pocket of the people looking for me. They're everywhere, and if you try and bring any charges, they’ll bury them, and if you don’t stop prying, they’ll bury you as well.” She glanced between the three humans, speaking the dangers into existence making them solidify in her mind. Her vigilance was returning, and she could almost sense the shadowy figures closing in around her with every second she delayed. Yasmin was quiet now, and Graham was eyeing her with an expression of pity that further irritated her frayed temper. Finally, Grace spoke.

“No.”

Thirteen raised an eyebrow.

“No what?” she asked, voice a little more even.

“No we’re not just letting you leave.”

Thirteen stared at her, tension humming under her skin like static. “You can’t stop me,” she said quietly, wings twitching.

“Listen, they haven’t found you here yet,” Grace said, “You’re still injured and you look exhausted. If they were going to come for you, surely they’d have found you by now? If they’re really as all powerful as you say they are?”

Every single place she had ever run to, they had found her. She had tried again and again to find the most remote spots she could manage, and they always caught up with her. And it always ended the same. Fighting, bleeding, confinement, cages. It took everything she had to keep flying, to keep finding reasons to run.

“They _will_ catch up with me,” she warned, voice deadly quiet, “And they don’t care about collateral damage in the slightest. They could kill all of you. It’s not too late for me to go and for you to pretend you never even saw me. You could go back to normal.” And they could. They would go back to every day lives and every day drama. Yasmin would hand out parking tickets, Grace would heal the sick, and Graham would dote on her every day for the rest of their lives. It was world Thirteen would never, ever be able to be a part of. The cruelty of the offer, the danger of it, to let her have a window, just for a little while, into safety and security and sameness, to feel what it was like to be still, was unbearable. She needed them to deny her now, to send her on her way before she got any more attached.

“We’re gonna help you out,” insisted Grace firmly. Thirteen sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. Her eyes flicked to Yasmin, but the woman shook her head. “I’m not- I wont tell anyone,” she promised, and Thirteen snorted disbelievingly. “Tell me that when a gun’s to your head,” she snapped, and she knew it was unkind but they didn’t know what they were promising. She turned her back to them and flung herself back down onto the sofa, knotting her hand in her hair.

Everyone was saved the awkwardness of trying to come up with a follow up to that statement by a sharp rap at the door. Thirteen shot to her feet, vaulting the sofa and barging between Grace and Yasmin into the kitchen before any of them had reacted. “Get back,” she warned, adrenaline flooding her exhausted limbs. She drew back a fist as she dashed towards the door, but Grace caught up with her, voice filled with consternation. “Thirteen, it’s okay, it’s my grandson,” she said, and Thirteen glanced wildly at her, gulping down air. The woman laid a steadying hand on her arm, and she slowly lowered her fist, eyes glued anxiously to the door. “Just a second, Ryan,” Grace called through the wood, surveying Thirteen pityingly.

“C’mon,” Graham said, appearing in the hallway and holding an arm out. Thirteen gave the proffered limb a wide berth as she inched back into the kitchen, and Yasmin was watching her with that same expression of pity. Thirteen sank into a chair and lent her arms along the wood, focusing of the feeling of it under her wrists, as Grace opened the front door. When there was no sudden screams or shouts from the hallways, she dared to look away from the wood, and Grace was welcoming in a tall young man with a warm smile.

“Thirteen, this is my grandson, Ryan,” she said, and the young man blinked owlishly down at her, taking in her dishevelled appearance, expression wrinkling into a frown of confusion as he zeroed in on her folded wings. This was starting to get really tiring. The constant adrenaline was making her even crabbier than usual.

“Let me catch you up, Ryan,” she said, not bothering to stand, “I’m an escaped scientific experiment, I’m being hunted down by an army of genetically-modified horrors, and your nan wont let me just go on my merry way because for some reason she feels the compulsion to help me, even though it’s dangerous and pointless.”

To her great surprise, the young man didn’t turn to Grace and question her sanity. Instead he just favoured Thirteen with a lopsided smile, nodding. “Yeah, that sounds like Nan,” he murmured, and Graham chuckled. “Too right,” he agreed, eyes twinkling, and Thirteen caught the barest hint of something that almost looked like irritation cross Ryan’s face for a second as he regarded the old man. It vanished into surprise as his eyes landed on Yasmin.

“Hey, Ryan,” she said, smiling, “Weird morning, huh?” she took her hat off and left it on the counter, smiling uncertainty at him. “Do you remember me? We both went to primary school together?”

“Yasmin Khan?” he asked, and she nodded, pleased. “How’ve you been?” he asked, and Thirteen found herself really warming to his enthusiasm and warmth. Definitely Grace’s grandson. A familiar prickle of envy jabbed at Thirteen’s stomach as she watched them catching up, mind drifting to people she’d like to catch up to. She wondered idly who was still around, mind drifting so far that it took a moment to register that Graham was speaking to her.

“S-sorry, Graham,” she said, pulling her expression into an apology, “I was miles away. What did you say?”

“I said, do you want some tea? I’m gonna make breakfast.”

Instantly, all her physical complaints started vying for her attention. She was starving, aching, grimy and exhausted. She nodded mutely, suddenly feeling glued to the chair with fatigue. The damn lab never fed her enough, despite them giving her a souped up metabolism that burned through three times the normal amount of calories in a day. She wobbled upright, glancing around for Grace. The woman met her eyes and instantly came over to her. “You alright, love?” she asked kindly, and Thirteen nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Can I. Can I…” her hands flickered awkwardly around her chest, wondering how to phrase it. She suddenly felt very aware of how grubby she probably looked, covered in grime and blood. Grace understood without her having to say anything, and an understanding smile crossed her face. “Of course,” she nodded, turning to Ryan and Yaz.

“Ryan,” she said, and they broke off their conversation expectantly. “Will you go to the charity shop down the road? It should be open by now. Thirteen needs something new to wear.” She glanced at Thirteen questioningly, but Thirteen was at a loss. “You- you don’t have to get me clothes,” she said, shaking her head, “I-I-I just wanted to wash my face, you don’t have to-”

Grace raised her eyebrows and silenced her with a look. “What kind of clothes do you need,” she asked, kindly but in the same voice that didn’t suggest her question was a request. Thirteen chewed her lip and looked down. “Lose,” she murmured, “Warm. I need a big coat to- to hide-” she tucked her wings self consciously to her body, feeling every eye in the room on them.

“Bring a few options,” Grace suggested, and she continued studying the floor as Ryan and Yaz left, still chatting and catching up. Thirteen tried desperately not to let her imagination run away with her about the dangers they could face going down the high street. Grace waited for a moment, before tapping the back of her chair gently. “C’mon,” she said quietly, and Thirteen looked up at her. The woman inclined her head towards the hallway, and she hauled herself upright and followed Grace upstairs.

* * *

The bathroom was clean and comforting, and the smell of cleaning products was much less harsh than the acrid bleach and antiseptic of the labs. Grace had provided her with a toothbrush and a couple of warm fluffy towels, and, on seeing Thirteen’s wary expression, had promised to sit outside the bathroom until she had finished, to make sure she wasn’t disturbed. Thirteen couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to properly examine herself. Stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel and with her tattered, borrowed suit discarded, it wasn’t a pretty picture.

Her hair was filthy and matted, hanging limply well past her shoulders. She hated it being so long, but the lab wasn’t especially concerned with keeping her hair neat and tidy. She was lucky they hadn’t buzzed it entirely, although pinching a strand between her fingers, she’d have almost preferred that. Her eyes were sunken and deeply shadowed, and her clavicles stuck out in ways they shouldn’t have. Even her wings looked miserable- she couldn’t really extend them very far in the small space, but their usual glossy rust was dull, and the brilliant blue of the coverts looked faded. Thirteen sighed, finding her own hazel eyes in the mirror and staring. They were dull and bloodshot, but somewhere in the gaunt face, she was sure she could still see herself in there.

The shower water was blissfully warm, even if it stung on the scratches that covered her body. Grace had okayed her to take the dressings off- the wound was showing no signs of infection, and was healing rapidly, but it still ached dully was the hot water washed over it. She sniffed something sweet smelling in a bottle experimentally, and upended the substance onto her head, furiously scrubbing her scalp to get some of the mats and dirt out of the roots. She held her wings out from under the stream as best she could- if they got soaked through, she wouldn’t be able to fly- but small rivulets ran down them, and she shook them out with a deafening flurry.

“Thirteen?” Grace’s voice sounded through the door as she shut the water off and wrapped herself in a towel. “Mm?” she asked, feeling oddly sleepy. “Ryan and Yaz are back. I’ve got some clothes for you- here.” The door opened a crack and a couple of plastic bags were edged through. “Thanks,” was all Thirteen could manage, voice thick. It was stupid. It was really stupid, crying over clothes, but her traitorous eyes started anyway, and she pressed her lips together, determined not to let Grace hear her breaking down. She knelt and put a hand to her mouth as she pawed through the contents.

Once she’d picked out a top and some comfortable, lose fitting trousers that didn’t cover her legs all the way, she set to work cutting slits in the back of it, before pulling it on. The fabric was soft and warm, and she stroked the sleeve for a moment before turning her attention to a power blue coat she’d picked out. It seemed almost a shame to cut up something so nice, but it was big, and she liked the hood it came with. In the time she’d been working, her hair had mostly dried, but she dragged a brush through it anyway, before she knocked quietly on the door to let Grace know she was coming out.

The woman beamed as Thirteen emerged and she felt a little embarrassed, wrapping the coat more closely around herself. “Thank you,” she murmured, studying the ground as she fiddled awkwardly with her sleeve. “Don’t mention it,” the woman assured her. “Did you want to finish your hair off with a hair-dryer?” she asked, and Thirteen stared at her blankly. Another sad sigh, and Grace nodded to another set of stairs. “C’mon, I’ll show you,” she said, and they walked into an open space, where the roof timbers hung just above their heads. “Sit down, go ahead,” Grace said kindly, and Thirteen did as she was told, feeling oddly wrong footed.

She started in alarm when Grace pulled out a small, plastic object, that looked for all the world like a gun. She was up and on her feet, on the other side of the room in an instant, staring, stricken at the object. It was as if it had already gone off, judging by the leaden coldness in her heart as she felt betrayal, shock, fury- Grace looked baffled, and then understanding crossed her face. Thirteen was caught in place, shaking, watching attentively as the woman shifted and dropped the object, holding her hands out, her expression devastated. “Thirteen I’m so sorry,” she said, voice low and slow, “It’s not a weapon, I- I didn’t think-”

“Pass it over here,” she breathed roughly, and Grace picked it up gingerly and handed it to her before retreating once again to the other side of the room. She turned it over in her hands, heart slowing down again as she realised that Grace was telling the truth. It had a power cord running from it and it didn’t seem to do anything at all when it wasn’t plugged in- she flicked a couple of switches gingerly, but it didn’t respond. She sighed, tension falling away into exhaustion. “Sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head, holding the thing back out to Grace. “Thirteen,” Grace breathed, voice quietly horrified, “What… what did they _do_ to you?”

She looked up into Grace’s warm eyes as the woman took the thing back, shaking her head hopelessly. How could she even begin to explain? It was impossible, it was too big, too awful. Grace made an odd, hesitant movement, and she stiffened slightly, but after a moment she returned the gesture, reaching her arms around the woman and letting herself soften just a little into the embrace. Her heart was still racing, but the comfort of Grace’s arms around her slowed it to it’s usual pace, and she let out a choked whimper.

Graham’s voice calling up through the floorboards interrupted them and they separated, but Thirteen felt herself sticking very close to Grace, trailing after her like a duckling. They descended the house, and Graham looked up from the stove, surrounded by piles of breakfast food. “Ah, hi! Hope you’re hungry,” he said, as Ryan and Yaz entered and sat down. Yaz’s eyes flicked over Thirteen’s new appearance and she smiled approvingly. Thirteen wasn’t quite sure she trusted her yet, but she returned the smile shyly, dropping into a chair. “I’m always hungry,” she said absently, twisting her hands in her lap, “My metabolism is quicker than yours. It’s- not just the wings,” she admitted, ducking her head in embarrassment.

“Maybe Graham’s part bird too, then,” Ryan teased, “He’s always hungry.” Graham made a noise of protest, but Grace laughed, and Thirteen was surprised into a little chuckle too, as he piled toast and eggs onto her plate. A tight knot of fear in her stomach eased ever so slightly.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt too much, after all, she thought. She could play pretend, just for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO PROOFREADING WE DIE LIKE MNE


	4. these are only walls that hold me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of conversations, and a couple of revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for: confinement/claustrophobia, choking/asphyxiation, mild body horror.

Thirteen was feeling fuller and safer than she had in a long time. She was still quiet- she let the humans do most of the talking- but slowly, surely, calm eased it’s way into her chest. The warm shower and the food had done a lot to ease her into a contented sleepiness, and she stifled a yawn.

It was all alien to her. Grace and Graham had immediately invited her into their home, and she was still getting used to the notion that she was, for at least a little while, welcome. She hadn’t ever really given herself the chance to feel welcome somewhere before. Ryan and Yaz shot playful quips back and forth and shared stories about their time in school, which fascinated Thirteen. Yaz had elected to stop for breakfast but had to leave when she’d finished, and Thirteen still felt a flutter of anxiety as the young woman made to leave.

Yaz caught her looking and her features softened. “I wont tell anyone, Thirteen,” she said, “It’ll be easy to make up something to cover the time- you wouldn’t believe how much time I spend dealing with mundane nonsense anyway. You’ll be okay.”

Thirteen just pressed her lips together in a grateful smile, lips twisting down slightly at the edges in a way that suggested she still wasn’t quite convinced. Yaz turned to Grace and Graham. “Thanks for breakfast. Can I- I mean-” her eyes flicked to Thirteen once again, “Can I come back and… check in?”

“Of  _ course _ , love,” Grace assured her. 

“I’ll text you if anything happens,” Ryan added, standing to walk the young officer out. 

“Bye,” Thirteen said as they left, watching them into the hallway before turning to find Grace and Graham both eyeing her. “Thank you,” she said, for about the fifth time, but she couldn’t stop, “For… breakfast and-”

“Thirteen, if you thank us one more time,” Graham said, but his eyes and voice were kind. Grace reached over the table and covered Thirteen’s hand protectively with one of her’s. “You’ve been mistreated,” she said seriously, “But everyone out there will not want to hurt you. I know it’s hard to believe but…” she trailed off, and she finished with a reassuring pat on Thirteen’s hand before she stood up briskly and started to clear plates away. Thirteen stood too, but a wave of tiredness hit her and she stifled a yawn, leaning forwards onto the table. “‘Scuse me,” she murmured, blinking a few times.

“You should get some more rest,” Grace said, looking her up and down. A half formed protest died on Thirteen’s lips as she recognised the set of the nurse’s jaw. Still kind, always kind, but also inviting precisely zero nonsense. A rueful grin crept onto her face in spite of herself.

“Never thought I’d meet a will that matched mine,” she mumbled, as Grace passed Graham with a caring hand to his shoulder and gestured towards the stairs at Thirteen. She frowned questioningly, tilting her head towards the living room and the sofa.

“We have a guest room,” Grace said, expression once again slightly sad as she regarded Thirteen, “It’ll be more comfortable. We didn’t really get a minute last night to move you but it’ll be way comfier, I promise.“

Thirteen shrugged and followed her upstairs mutely, too shattered to protest.

The sight of the bed upstairs nearly brought her to tears again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in a  _ bed _ . It had always been hard metal floors or damp earth. Sometimes if she was lucky she’d snag a sleeping bag. But a bed… she made to get into it before pausing, turning to Grace. “I’m supposed to take my shoes off, aren’t I?” she asked, struggling for the memory of proper bed etiquette.

“It’s comfier with an entirely different outfit,” Grace admitted with a nod, holding out an oversized T shirt. “You don’t have to, but it can feel a lot more relaxing.”

Thirteen gazed down at the shirt, tapping a leg indecisively. “If… if I need to run, though,” she murmured, looking back at Grace and imploring her to understand. If she was woken suddenly and had to escape, she wouldn’t have time to be getting dressed. Grace just once again looked desperately sad for her, and she sighed. “I make you sad,” she noted, perching on the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry. I- I don’t want to upset you, I’m not trying to-”

Grace knelt down in front of her, shaking her head urgently. “It upsets me that someone did this to you, love, that’s not the same thing as _ you  _ making me sad.” Her expression was kind, and sincere, and Thirteen felt a little embarrassed, looking away with a shrug. “I- I was made for this,” she said haltingly. “I don’t like it but- you already did so much more for me than I ever- than I-” she fidgeted with the shirt, not liking feeling vulnerable. “I’m alive,” she arrived at finally, looking at Grace, “And I’m free. That’s all I’ve ever needed. Everything else is-” she waved a hand. “It’s… wonderful, and I’m grateful, but- you don’t have to feel sorry for me. I was born to run. To fly.”

Understanding stole into Grace’s features, although it didn’t seem to make her any less sad. “Sounds like a lonely way to live,” she murmured, and Thirteen shrugged her wings, a little movement which turned into a stretched as she extended them slowly behind her. “It’s a way to live,” she countered, tucking them back down and blinking at Grace tiredly. Perhaps the exhaustion was why she was being so unusually open. “If I have to choose between being free and lonely or being loved and trapped…” she trailed off, raking a hand through her hair, “I- I- just- I can’t.” Even now, through layers of weariness, the need for freedom hummed under her skin. To escape confinement and to soar into the sky, free of emotions and attachments, free of everything except the wind under her feathers and her blood singing in her veins…  _ Soon _ , she promised herself, knowing that her blood was stretched thin still and would manage little more than a whisper at present.

Grace was studying her with an odd expression and Thirteen shrank in on herself a little, a strange new sort of nervousness filling her. Grace represented an entirely different type of danger to the erasers and the guns and shadowy figures following her. Grace, and Graham, and Ryan and Yaz, were the much more subtle danger. A softness that would weigh her down and make her forget how to fly. She shivered, and Grace stood up, apparently realising that she’d woken some nervous instinct. “Want me to go?” she asked, and Thirteen sighed. It was lonely. Was she tired of being lonely?

She was certainly tired.

Grace watched her for a moment, paused on the doorstep, half in and half gone. “Call me if you need me,” she said with a smile, before leaving Thirteen to the dark and quiet. It wasn’t really dark, or quiet, but it was so much gentler and warmer and softer than the never-ending bright light of the labs. It was never silent when she was there- she snatched dozes in fits and bursts, crammed into a crate she could barely move in, let alone lie down or get comfortable in. Other experiments shrieked and wailed, lights hummed and flickered, the sting of chemicals assaulted her nose as she tried to rest. Here, in Grace and Graham’s spare room, it was quiet, and warm. The darkness was blissful, the low mumble of the world outside the house was comforting in it’s secrecy- she felt hidden, overlooked. Thirteen stretched her wings out as she crawled between the sheets. It was so absurdly comfortable she was asleep almost immediately.

***

“It’s so much crueller than I thought,” Grace murmured to Graham, and he blinked, shifting stiffly on the sofa. He’d half fallen asleep with his arm around his wife, and he wondered idly why they hadn’t just gone to  _ their _ bed. But Grace was right- she often was- they needed to keep an eye out. Just in case. The living room looked just the same as it ever had, and it was amazingly easy to forget the sight of Thirteen collapsed on the sofa the previous night, face pale and troubled as she slept. Where he was sat now, wings had lain, real, tangible wings somehow attached to the back of a woman who at once seemed sharp and brittle, filled with the frantic fury of a cornered animal and the open wistfulness of a lonely child. Graham shifted with an indistinct grumble, a knot in his back protesting unhappily. “How could it be crueller than it already seemed?” he asked warily, looking at Grace. She had spent more time with the anxious stranger than he had, but even he could see that the poor woman was very obviously traumatised. She had the manner of a panicked bird and the bearing of a kicked puppy, and it was awful to witness.

He could tell Grace was thinking the same. Her expression was wrinkled in what might have seemed to someone who didn’t know her to be fairly mild, but Graham knew better. Of all of the wonderful things about his wife, this was possibly the most so- a fierceness in her warmth. It was a love that could bend rivers and shape mountains, and he found himself once again slightly breathless with her capacity for caring. “She thought the hairdryer was a _ gun _ ,” she said at length, still staring into space, “She wanted to sleep in her clothes in case she had to get up and run…” she shook her head before turning to Graham. He felt disgust cross his face, mouth twisting as if he’d tasted something foul.

“Poor thing,” he muttered grimly, shaking his head. “How can we- I mean, it- it’s all crazy but- surely if we- the police can’t just make all of us vanish, can they?” He was grasping, because he wanted to believe that Thirteen’s ordeal was over, now that they had found her. But he knew, and he could tell that Grace knew too, that it was a lot more complicated than that.

“If they’re powerful enough to engineer wings onto a person, _ and  _ powerful enough to cover it up…” she trailed off grimly, shaking her head. “I think we’re on our own, love.”

Graham shuffled closer to her, eyeing her face anxiously. He didn’t even need to ask if she was on board with this, and he felt selfish for worrying, but he couldn’t help a flutter of nerves. Grace caught his eye and smiled sharply, playful. “Don’t you look at me like that, Graham,” she warned, before her expression stilled and grew serious. “I think we should help her,” she said, and he sighed. “I know, love, I do too, it’s just- well, it sounds like these people who’re after her are really dangerous, and I- what if something happened to you, or Ryan?”

“Could you really live with yourself, if you turned her away?”

The image of Thirteen floated back into his mind and he sighed. He couldn’t. He really couldn’t. Watching her in their kitchen the previous night had been painful- wide, terrified eyes, so cold and strong but _ so _ afraid, a body that seemed to want to at once expand and collapse, shoulders curled in on themselves and muscles bunched, always ready for a fight. He raised his eyebrows in defeat at Grace, shaking his head. “We can figure it out,” he conceded, and Grace favoured him with a peck on the cheek. “We’ll find somewhere quiet,” she said, “Somewhere out of the way. Maybe by the seaside. We can get a little cottage and she’ll be safe.” She made it sound so easy. She made everything sound easy, and she made the bits that weren’t easy- the fear, the uncertainty, the anxiety and the waiting, the awful side effects- she made them bearable. Of course he wasn’t surprised she was desperate to help Thirteen too. It was what she did best, and what she thrived on.

***

“Sleep well?”

Graham’s friendly voice came from the sofa and Thirteen rubbed sleep from one eye, nodding. Her bare toes curled up a little on the carpet as she ambled into the living room. “Thanks,” she mumbled, as Grace stood and beckoned her into the living room fondly. “Come and have a sit,” she murmured, gesturing to an armchair. Thirteen stretched as she went, flopping into the chair and pulling her legs on with her, pulling them up to her chest and resting her chin on them owlishly.

“I’m going to need to get going soon,” she sighed sadly, blinking dolefully at the O’Breins. Graham looked slightly wounded, and her heart sank. Grace didn’t look ready to admit defeat yet, either. “But you’re still not well,” she protested softly, “And we- we don’t want you to go yet,” the woman admitted, and Thirteen felt a cold weight settle in her stomach. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, feeling confined by it’s plush arms and soft cushions. “I- I have to go eventually,” she said uncertainly, feeling oddly uneasy.

She tried to stretch her legs out, but to her horror they collided with something. Metal bars. She inhaled a sharp breath in fright and tried to open her wings, but they only extended a couple of inches before they too met resistance, and her view of the living room spiralled and shrank into darkness. She shifted her legs underneath herself and fell forwards desperately, finding herself stuck back in a cage- a frightened sob took flight from her throat as she gasped for air, reaching through the bars desperately, baffled and afraid.

Someone’s hand met hers and held it kindly.

“Grace?” she gasped, eyes searching the woman’s warm expression. 

“It’s  _ okay _ , Thirteen,” the woman said, and Graham appeared next to her. “Shhhh, love,” he murmured kindly, and she shook her head, thoughts sluggish and racing all at once. “N-no you have to get me out,” she breathed, voice a hysterical whisper, “You have to-”

Her words choked off as she felt something slip over her head. A hand fluttered up to her neck and she felt the unmistakable twist of a cruel, cold snare trapping her. As Graham and Grace looked on she felt it tightening and her constricted wings fluttered helplessly, hammering into confining walls as she gasped for air.

***

Thirteen shot upright with a gasp, wings flared and trembling. She scrambled frantically from the bed, movements completely inhuman as she more or less fell to the floor with a heavy thud, ignoring the protests of her aching muscles as she shook herself free of the bedding, breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Her body swung upwards from all fours to a doubled over stand, wings lifting to balance her as she turned and fell against the wall, limbs shaking with panic.

Her movements had clearly made some noises downstairs, because there was a thundering of two sets of steps up through the house and a moment later Grace’s voice came through the door. 

“Thirteen,” she called urgently, and Thirteen flinched, but called out breathlessly. “Yeah I- I’m here, c-come in-” she realised a second later she ought to have composed herself, but it was too late- Grace and Graham burst into the room, roving it for danger.

“Sorry, I-I-” Thirteen raked her hand through her hair, growling in frustration as it knotted and tangled. “Bad- bad dream,” she mumbled, adrenaline leeching away, along with her strength. She realised they were both staring and remembered that they hadn’t seen her wings fully extended properly before. Slowly, as her heart calmed down, she steadied them, holding them out at full extension. The tips of her primaries brushed each wall of the room, and she caught Grace’s eye.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked, focusing on Thirteen’s face. She nodded, slowly tucking her wings back to her, the frenzied energy subsiding for the time being. Just a nightmare.

“Yeah, I- bad dream but,” she let out a decisive breath, flexing a hand. “I feel better, actually,” and she meant it. The panic of the dream was already fading and she did feel much better for laying down. She’d be able to get back on track nice and quickly at this rate. She chewed her lip in thought, trying to sort through everything she needed to do. She shifted slightly and caught sight of herself in the mirror and grimaced, remembering her trailing mess of hair.

“Do you have any small scissors?” she asked, turning her eyes back to Grace and Graham. Graham nodded, but frowned. “What d’you need them for?” he asked warily, and she reached up to tug on a strand of hair. “Driving me crazy,” she muttered, with a tiny smile. Grace’s eyebrows shot up in understanding. “You’re gonna cut your own hair?” she asked, and Thirteen shrugged. “Yeah, why not? People do that, right?”

There was a long pause, during which Grace regarded her, seemingly hovered on the edge of a decision, before she eventually said, “Want me to do it for you?”

Thirteen swallowed uneasily. She had let Grace stick a needle in her already. The woman was trustworthy but the dream wasn’t so far from her mind- but if they were only little scissors… Grace, clearly watching the hesitation play across her face, hurried to retract the offer, but Thirteen interrupted her. “Yes. I mean, please, if it’s not too much trouble?”

She still felt nervous and clammy, a few minutes later, as she knelt in front of the mirror, Grace behind her, her hair wetted down. “Just do like… a bob, that’s how I usually have it when I’m…”  _ When I’m not in a cage. When I’m on the run.  _ “When I’m travelling,” she finished, and her newfound friend’s expression flashed with anxiety that quickly vanished. “Alright,” she nodded, making some decisive snips. It was supposed to be relaxing, she’d heard, but she felt anything but as the scissors tickled the back of her neck. Grace brought the hair swooping down to meet her chin and ran a brush through it every so often, expression knit in concentration.

The concentration suddenly deepened to concern as the woman was brushing down the very back of Thirteen’s new haircut, and she felt a finger on the back of her neck. “Thirteen…” Grace murmured, and she felt her stomach tighten at the tone. It was chillingly calm, the kind of calm of… a nurse trying to deliver bad news.

“What?” she asked anxiously, looking at Grace in the mirror, eyes wide. She felt that touch again, and this time something shifted under her skin, and she felt her skin crawl. Something small and hard was embedded in the back of her neck.

“Do you know what that is?” Grace asked, voice worried as she met Thirteen’s eyes in the mirror. Thirteen felt sick.

“It’s a chip,” she breathed, body frozen in horror. They had implanted her with a microchip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> knock knock it's the plot. and pain! but that's been here the whole time to be fair.
> 
> ALSO WOULD YOU BLOODY CHECK OUT THIS AMAZING ART MY FRIEND DID GOD B L E S S https://doctormydoctor.tumblr.com/post/190778616239/i-did-a-drawing-for-the-first-chapter-of-a-really im entirely crying over here 
> 
> also also, sorry everyone who I haven't replied to work has been a whole entire Fuck this week and i am died so mmmyes.


	5. be near when I call your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen places an unusual amount of trust in Grace in order to get her help with something urgent. Things spiral rapidly out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for this chapter (PLEASE READ CAREFULLY)
> 
> \- Major character death  
> \- Guns  
> \- Sharp objects/medical procedures (needles, scalpels etc)  
> \- Descriptions of violence/fighting  
> \- Dermatillomania/self injury mention (dermatillomania is the habit of skin picking, kinda like trich but focused on skin instead of hair)
> 
> If you are squeamish you may want to skip the TWO PARAGRAPHS immediately following the sentence that starts "In the lab, she was almost constantly subject to some sort of horror,"  
> If you are bothered by dermatillomania or mentions of self injury you may want to skip the PARAGRAPH following the sentence that starts "Thirteen ran her fingers along the back of her neck,"

“Take it out.”

Thirteen’s voice was rough, her mind blank save for one desperate need, three words that she choked out, begging Grace. She turned, twisting whiplike on the floor, and snatched for the scissors, but Grace seemed to have anticipated her movement and flicked her hand away, holding them out of the way. “Thirteen, **_wait_ **,” she commanded, and Thirteen froze, eyes wide as she stared up at her saviour, panic clawing it’s way through her chest, desperate to get out. It was a good job she was sitting down because her entire body was quivering, tensed like a bow string ready to snap.

“You don’t understand,” she moaned, still twisted around in place, “This- this is how they’ve been finding me, I-” she pushed the back of her hand into her mouth, shoulders trying to fold in on her. This was how. This was how they always caught up to her and dragged her, fighting and struggling, back into captivity. Had she ever even really been free? Or did they just let her out to see, to observe how she managed, before sending out a team to collect her.

“I can’t just take it out without having a look first,” Grace said evenly, expression deeply worried. That scared Thirteen. Grace had looked concerned for her the entire time so far, but something in her face was a new kind of fear, unfamiliar and strange. “Please,” she whispered, “They’ll find me again. They could be on their way already. You _have_ to take it out.”

“If I can, I will,” Grace promised heavily, motioning for Thirteen to move. She did, standing up, tensing and untensing her hands as she watched the other woman steadily, heart hammering. Grace stood as well, fixing her with an imploring stare. “We’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

Thirteen shook her head immediately, taking a step backwards. “Thirteen, _please_ ,” Grace pleaded, “Think about it, angel. I can’t just go stabbing into your neck with no idea of what’s going on. I could kill you if I’m not careful. And I’m not even a surgeon, it’s hugely risky. It needs to be somewhere sterile, and somewhere I can get a look before I start doing anything. Please, trust me.”

Thirteen ran her fingers along the back of her neck, feeling the small, hard chip between her skin and the start of her spine. She felt the compulsion rising to dig her nails in and rip the damn thing out, wishing suddenly she had talons instead of fingernails. Grace looked truly upset, which made her pause in her frantic train of thought, and she very suddenly realised the enormous danger she was putting her and Graham in.

“They’ll be looking for me,” she warned quietly, turning her gaze onto Grace seriously, stilling, “I can go, and they wont ever involve you. They’re...” she closed her eyes, jaw tightening as she fought away nightmares that pursued her into daylight, “They’re awful. You don’t want to be anywhere near them.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I don’t want you anywhere near them either,” Grace retorted shortly, and Thirteen opened her eyes. Grace was looking at her with a steely expression of determined love. It was almost enough to take her legs out from under her. “Trust me, Thirteen,” the woman said, and Thirteen clung to the words desperately, willing her flighty mind to obey Grace’s request, “I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

***

Ryan spotted them in the car park, and called out in the rapidly gathering darkness. He instantly felt a little guilty as the figure in the pale blue coat started dramatically, and he jogged over, holding his hands out placating. “Sorry, it’s just me,” he said, and Thirteen seemed to relax marginally, although she still looked extremely pale as they walked together towards the harsh lighting of the hospital. Ryan’s nan had placed herself front and centre, protectively leading the way, and Thirteen shadowed closely behind, her coat drawn close to herself as she stuck close to Grace. Graham raised his eyebrows towards Ryan with a strained smile, and for once Ryan didn’t really bother feeling frustrated with the man’s attempts at friendship. There were bigger things to worry about right now.

He fell into step next to Thirteen, and she peered up at him, a quick, grateful smile flashing his way. “I texted Yaz,” he informed the group, “She’s coming when she gets off her shift to give us another pair of eyes. Said nothing weird’s been reported, so maybe whoever it is isn’t here yet.”

“They’ll still be coming,” said Thirteen quietly, eyes wide as she focussed on the rapidly approaching doors. She looked almost ready to bolt.

“I hate hospitals too,” he confided, and Thirteen’s eyes snapped to his face, watching him intently, and he went on. “Reminds me of-” Grace glanced back at him, expression soft, and he smiled, squaring his shoulders. “Reminds me of some bad times, but- it’ll be okay, right?” He looked back down at Thirteen, who hadn’t stopped watching him as he spoke. Good, he was distracting her, and now they were over the threshold. Over the first hurdle.

“Will it be okay?” she asked him quietly, the worry on her expression oddly ill-suited to someone who was quite a bit older than him. He nodded immediately, as Grace smiled and chatted to and charmed her colleagues working the desk. 

“‘Course it will,” he said, “Nan’s here. She knows what she’s doing.”

“C’mon,” Grace said, clearly having been successful in sweet-talking them some privacy. Graham was coming back with her, but Ryan couldn’t help notice that Thirteen relaxed slightly as soon as his nan was nearby. He hid a smile. She had that effect on people- on him, when his mum had been sick, on Graham, when he was terrified, and now on Thirteen, who she’d managed to talk into a place that surely reminded her of… they’d only had bits and pieces, but they were building into a very ugly picture.

But watching his Nan stride confidently ahead of them, he was reassured too. She’d get that horrible chip out of Thirteen, they’d smash it, and the flighty, nervous experiment could finally get some time to chill out, even if only a little bit.

***

The sting of chemicals in her nose and the clean white lines of the X-Ray machine were invading Thirteen’s senses, and she tried to calm her breathing down. It was over in a moment, and Graham appeared around the corner. “Well done, cockle,” he said with a crinkled smile, and she hopped down off the table, crossing over to stand close to him. The old man had a smile as kind as Grace’s, and in the cold, awful corridors of the hospital, so like those of the lab, she clung to it like a flare in the night.

She tried not to let the sharp edges of her memories encroach on her but she couldn’t help it. She followed Graham back to the operating desk of the X-Ray machine, where Grace was flicking through the pictures on a computer screen, the blue light spilling over her face painting sinister intentions in Thirteen’s imagination. “Well, it’s not embedded in any important nerves, thank goodness,” Grace said, expression keen and focussed as she inspected the images, before turning to Thirteen. “I can get it out, but I still think you should let me-”

Thirteen shook her head, pulse racing. They’d discussed this already. “I don’t want anyone else behind my back with a scalpel,” she insisted, voice rough before she remembered what she was asking Grace to do. “Please,” she breathed, “I- I promise- I won't be upset if it- if something doesn’t quite go right. I just need it out, and I can’t- I can’t just-” Grace had promised she had friends, friends who would be discrete, friends who she could get here quickly, no questions asked, but Thirteen already felt terribly sick at the thought of being undefended in front of Grace, let alone anyone else.

“Okay,” Grace breathed, nodding, “Let me get what I need.”

***

“I can’t believe you’re not going to let her give you anaesthetic…”

Ryan and Graham were both looking at her in mind horror as she sat on the table, and she rolled her eyes at Ryan’s statement. “Pain can be ignored,” she said dismissively, trying not to fidget and turn her head, “Drugs can’t.” In truth, the worst part had been turning her back on Grace. She didn’t believe that the woman had a malicious bone in her body, but the sight of her in surgical scrubs and gloves had almost made her faint. Her heart fluttered nervously as Grace moved into position behind her. “I’m going to need you to hold still, Thirteen,” the woman said, one hand bracing against her back. She nodded, licking her lips dryly. Luckily, she was well trained in sitting still whilst being hurt.

In the lab, she was almost constantly subject to some sort of horror, and if she had the audacity to complain, it almost always resulted in more suffering for her. She had learned to pick and choose which specific scientists she played up for, and who it wasn’t worth the pain of fighting. They all had. But as much as she’d casually insisted against anaesthetic, it still sent her stomach plummeting as she felt the scalpel drag open the skin at the back of her neck. She breathed out sharply through her teeth and gripped the table even more tightly, furiously commanding her body to be still as she felt Grace reaching into the injury with tweezers. Something released and she felt another tug, blackness threatening the edges of her vision. She focussed on the pain and wrapped her mind around the white hot shock, eyes closed as she struggled for purchase against consciousness.

“You’re doing great, Thirteen,” Grace murmured, and she heard a muted clatter. The familiar sharp prick of a needle was jabbing repeatedly into the injury now, and spots swam in her vision. Without the adrenaline of a fight or an argument, she was having a harder time commanding her body’s natural response to being injured, and it was a relief when she felt Grace running a stinging antiseptic across the wound and carefully attaching a large plaster. “Okay, you can move now,” the woman said, and she turned instantly, almost headbutting Grace, who had evidently not expected her to be so mobile so fast.

“Where is-” she started, but Grace was already passing the dish over. A small, plastic chip, about the size of her thumbnail sat unassumingly in the tray. She snatched it up, ignoring the fact that it was still lathered in her own blood, and snapped it in half in her fingers with a satisfying crunch, before letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been withholding and slumping forwards.

“That was ridiculous,” Graham commented, ambling over, and she looked up from under her hair, hands still gripping the table. She wobbled slightly, and he held an arm out to steady her. His expression was full of concern and something else- pity, maybe, or confusion. “Thank you,” she croaked, turning her head to look at Grace, who was washing her hands, favouring her with a rare grin. “I’d like to see them find me now.”

Ryan’s phone buzzed and she turned sharply, the tinny sound loud in the quiet room. “It’s Yaz…” he murmured, frowning. Thirteen felt her heart sink. “She’s here… she says there are some guys asking after you at reception, Thirteen.”

Her feet hit the ground in an instant and she blinked wildly at the three humans, suddenly having to factor them into her plan.

“Don’t even think about running off without us,” Graham warned, and she let out a frightened breath, shaking her head. “No time. Split up?” She’d be sending them into danger, but if they stayed with her they’d still be in danger. Her sensitive ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps, ruthlessly efficient. “Too late,” she muttered, running for the door. She’d have to fight her way out. She skidded into the corridor, before turning sharply, suddenly ferocious as she glared Grace, Ryan and Graham back into the room. “Stay there, or you’ll get hurt,” she snapped.

The sharp bark of gunfire interrupted her and she jumped, eyes snapping to the end of the corridor in shock. Guns, again? They’d truly gotten sick of trying to bring her in. Three suited figures were rounding the corner, one of them pointing a weapon in her direction. Her heart stopped as she blinked, suddenly caught off guard. Finally free and now she would die anyway.

The bang ricocheted around the corridor just as Grace pushed herself in front of Thirteen.

She fell.

She heard both Graham and Ryan scream, and suddenly it was all out of her control- they were tearing themselves from the door, and she had to do the only thing she could think of.

She turned and ran straight for the erasers, unfurling her wings fully. Her body, mercifully, took over, well oiled movements springing into her limbs as she charged forwards. They unfurled themselves too, human faces morphing, teeth lengthening but somehow maintaining a semblance of sadistic grins as they doubled in size. The now-wolf men snarled and snapped eagerly as she approached. She ducked forwards and threw herself bodily into the chest of one, tossing him into his companion. The third made a grab for her and she kicked out on instinct, feeling fingers breaking. The two she had thrown into each other were recovering so she brought a leg up and slammed it into the top one’s chest, hard, and was rewarded with a satisfying wheeze.

The one whose fingers she’d broken snapped his jaws around her shoulder and she let out a ragged cry of pain, struggling frantically, slamming her fists into the massive snout. He let go and she sagged, labouring to deliver a half-hearted kick to the chest on the one in front of her. It just about staggered him, but the third was coming for her now, and retaliated by sweeping an arm forwards and catching her in the jaw. She spat blood and snarled, leaping forwards and slamming both legs into his chest, following up with a vicious headbutt. There was a nasty crack and when she landed on top of him, he lay still.

She didn’t have time to enjoy her triumph- one of the remaining erasers lifted her up and threw her into the wall. She dropped to the floor, hard, and her attempt to lurch to her feet was hampered by pain that shot through her body. She swung clumsily at the approaching erasers, but she was almost beat and they knew it. She could feel the stitches in the back of her neck had come undone and her shoulder was a bloodied mess. And fighting was so hard when she was weight down at the heart.

Suddenly, a new set of footsteps was pounding their direction and the fighters all turned. Yaz had found them. The erasers looked truly dumbfounded at the sight of the slight human running full bore at them, and Thirteen tried to wheeze out a warning, but Yaz surprised everyone by delivering a vicious kick to the nearest one as she arrived. He staggered back in shock and Thirteen took the opportunity to leap at him and slam his head into the wall, hard. He went down as Yaz ducked under a vicious blow from the last one standing, and Thirteen swept a wing out and helped him fall, as Yaz flung herself backwards, landing her elbow squarely in the back of his falling head.

“Were they the only three?” gasped Thirteen, and Yaz nodded, looking horrified. “What _are_ they?”

“Erasers,” Thirteen said grimly, “Running at them was... A really stupid thing to do.” She looked up at Yaz sharply. “Don’t do that again, or you’ll-” her stomach dropped as she turned her head down the corridor, swallowing. 

“You’ll get really hurt.”

***

The impossibility of whatever was going on down the corridor was only rivalled by the impossibility of Grace, wonderful, loving, kind beautiful Grace, laying wounded on the floor. This couldn’t be happening. Graham shook his head, hands fluttering uselessly around the injury that was clearly leeching his wife’s life away. “Grace, tell me- tell me what to do,” he stammered, heart racing as if it could take over from Grace’s for her, do twice the work. “We’re in a hospital, love, there’s gotta be-”

She shook her head fondly, grasping Ryan’s hand in hers and reaching the other up to touch Graham’s face. “Love, don’t worry,” she gasped, breaths hitching in pain, her kind expression twisted with agony, “And don’t let anyone blame themselves for this.” Ryan let out a desperate noise and shook his head. “Nan, no,” he breathed, and she turned her eyes to him, smiling warmly. “You make me so proud,” she sighed, “Both of you do.”

“Grace, I-” Graham felt frantic, desperately searching her face, trying to find that stalwart reassurance and seeing only a quiet sort of pain, a surrender that was devastating. “What do I do?” he whispered, eyes wide and panicked, “I can’t do this without you I-”

“You can,” her voice was thick with pain, but laced with determination, even as it grew quieter and failed, “You know what’s right. Do that. I -I know you will.”

He reached down, surrendering a final, chaste kiss to her cheek. When he lifted his head, she was gone.

***

Thirteen sagged against the wall, a miserable hollow opening in her chest, one she knew would never stop aching. She felt tears starting in the corners of her eyes as she watched, desperate to run to Grace but terribly, horrifically guilty. She had found and trusted and loved and lost her in less than a day, and all because she hadn’t listened to her own better judgement. How could she get so used to someone’s presence so fast and then have them snatched away as quickly? She hovered, with Yaz, an awkward encroachment on a family tragedy, and all the while an undercurrent of despair warred with fear. Her wings were wet with grief and she hadn’t the inclination to fly, no matter how desperately her nerves fluttered.

“This is my fault,” she whispered. As much as she wanted to go to Graham’s side, to say goodbye to her saviour and apologise, she knew she had no right. Who was she to them, to any of them, other than a burden, a dangerous stranger who they’d welcomed into their home and in return had gotten one of them killed? She had been so terrified of what they might do to her, she hadn’t stopped to worry about what her presence would do to them. She was the dangerous one. They had saved her life and she had brought them this.

“I- I’m sorry,” she offered uselessly, taking a step back, “I- I’ll leave, it’ll- they wont-” Graham stood up, still not facing her, and she quailed weakly, wishing she’d left before she had to face his fury, the inevitable coldness. When he turned to her, his face was unreadable, covered in tearmarks.

“Thirteen,” he said, voice hollow and wooden. “My wife just died to save you. If you think I’m going to let you leave without me, you’re mad.”

“But I- we can’t- you have to stay,” she whispered, “I can’t let you. I can’t let anyone else get hurt.”

“Well you’re not gettin’ a choice.” Ryan was still crouched by Grace, but he was gazing up at her, lit from within by the same inescapable warmth as his nan, jaw set stubbornly.

Yaz’s phone buzzed suddenly, making everyone jump. She opened it and flicked through the messages, eyes widening. “I asked my friend to keep an eye out,” she said, voice urgent. “We have to go _now,_ if we’re going, there’s more of-” she glanced down the corridor at the still-motionless erasers, “There’s more coming.”

“But-” Graham looked down, heartbreak written in every feature. “We can’t just- we can’t leave her…”

“You should stay,” Thirteen insisted, nerves jangling. She had to be in motion- she needed to get away and stem the bleeding in her shoulder, “I’ll be fine on my own.” She tried to turn to walk and wobbled, swaying. Yaz steadied her. 

“You’re not going anywhere alone like that,” the young police officer snapped, exasperated, and Thirteen wrenched herself away with a snarl. 

“I’m not getting anyone else killed,” she retorted, the word falling leaden through the heavy atmosphere. There were subtle shifting noises from the end of the corridor. 

“They’re coming around, we have to go,” Yaz said, glancing at Ryan for support.

“Graham, help me move her. Then we have to go.”

Graham looked as if he was about to argue, but he sighed and lent down. Tenderly, husband and grandson lifted Grace and carried her into the room they’d all occupied just a short while earlier. Thirteen shook her head mutinously at Yaz. “Don’t you see what they do?” she hissed, voice lowered out of respect.

“Grace wanted to protect you,” Yaz bit back, “You need to let us do that for you now.”

“I hate this,” Graham muttered, emerging out of the room, fresh tears tracking down his cheeks, and Thirteen’s reply died on her lips as she turned to look at him and Ryan, who seemed to have been rendered mute with horror, “Don’t feel right, just- leavin’ her.”

“You could stay,” Thirteen whispered, voice robbed of volume by guilt. Graham stared at her, shaking his head. “She’d never forgive me if I didn’t come with you,” he said hoarsely, “Or if I let any of you lot get hurt ‘cause we were standing around wasting time.” He jerked his head down the corridor, expression dark.

Silently, Yaz, Ryan and Thirteen followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this was a ROUGH one, I think I put more effort into this chapter than any of the others I've written cause I was so so desperate to make sure I did Grace's departure justice. this... kinda had to happen storywise but I hated every minute of it. like I know people are gonna be mad at me for this one and all I can say to y'all is I know, I freakin know.
> 
> maybe I'll do a spinoff where this chapter never happens and experiment thirteen just has a sweet happy little life with the O'Breins.


	6. if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen, Ryan, Graham and Yaz flee, and some hard, hard conversations are had.

Yaz couldn’t get used to the numbness.

It was as if she was gliding, the crisis stretching out time so that each moment became glassy and elongated, the horror refusing to be circumnavigated. She watched Graham fumble with the keys to the car and rested a hand on his arm. “I’ll drive,” she offered, without thinking, her mind latching onto the one thing it was familiar with now- comfort and crisis management. He was probably in shock, and he blinked at her before nodding slowly and surrendering the keys. She unlocked the car and Ryan slumped into the back seat, expression closed and troubled. Thirteen hovered uncertainly near the door, looking panicked as she examined the closed space she’d be in.

“Thirteen, come sit in the front with me,” she suggested quickly, and Graham shot her another look of thanks, moving to sit in the back and casting an anxious glance in Ryan’s direction. The young man didn’t acknowledge it, and Graham chewed his lip, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes.

Thirteen was still making Yaz nervous- she was glancing around anxiously, next to the car but not moving to get in it. Their eyes met over the roof of the car and Thirteen looked like she was about to launch another protest.

“Thirteen,” she said firmly, drawing out the word insistently, “Let’s get somewhere _safe_ and have this conversation, yeah?” She prayed the woman would listen- she looked pale as ever, spots of blood smudged across her face, and Yaz was really concerned about the mangled mess her shoulder was. Finally, reluctantly, Thirteen nodded and got into the car, and Yaz sat herself in the driver’s seat, trying to ignore a mounting sense of fear.

“Where should we go?” she asked blankly, staring unseeingly through the windscreen as she wondered. Was towards civilisation or away better? She glanced at Thirteen, who looked at a loss. “South or north?” she tried, which seemed to jostle some ideas into place in the experiment’s scattered mind. “South,” she said decisively, not looking at Yaz, “We should… head for London. I need to… catch up.” She didn’t specify who or what with, but Yaz didn’t press further. Right now, they needed distance between them and those… things.

Some time later, somewhere on the M1, Graham and Ryan had both slipped into sleep, although Yaz imagined it was anything but restful. Thirteen, after Yaz’s insistence, had pressed Yaz’s jacket into her shoulder, and the bleeding had subsided fairly quickly. The woman had simply offered up an “advanced healing” and let the jacket fall into her lap, where it still sat. She had been motionless ever since, but the occasional reflection of lights from the road in her eyes and her ramrod posture told Yaz she hadn't slept.

“You don’t feel like sleeping?” she asked, eyes on the road.

“Never felt less sleepy in my life,” came the exhausted reply.

“You sound tired,” Yaz said lightly.

“I am tired. I’m just not sleepy. Sleepy is comfortable. Sleepy is warm and safe.” The woman’s voice was harsh and bitter, and Yaz spared a glance in her direction. Her face was full of sharp angles, deep grooves in her frown that collected shadows. Yaz flicked her eyes back to the road, feeling oddly nervous. It felt a little like being in a car with a wild animal- she banished that thought instantly, feeling cross at herself for even thinking it. Thirteen was very clearly a person, a sharply intelligent and deeply troubled person. A person who deserved her respect, a lot more respect for her personhood than had apparently been granted her before, she thought, the beginnings of vengeful anger stirring in her gut.

Yaz couldn’t think of anything to say. The whole situation was so out of her realm of understanding that she couldn’t manage any kind of reassurance. It wasn’t surprising that Thirteen couldn’t sleep. From the sound of it the woman had been having sleepless nights for a long, long time.

“Why are you here, PC Khan?” Thirteen asked flatly. 

“Call me Yaz,” she replied automatically.

“Why? We’re not friends,” Thirteen bit harshly, voice still stinging, “You have no reason to be doing this. You’re driving away from everything you’ve ever known at eighty miles per hour for what?” Her voice was steady and even, keeping the volume low to try not to wake Ryan and Graham.

“You seem like you could use a friend right now,” Yaz said evenly, eyes still on the road. Let her bluster- it was defensive, she knew, and Thirteen would realise she did need a friend.

“Every minute you spend with me is a minute harder it’ll be to get back to your life,” Thirteen pressed, unrelenting, “Your family. Do you have friends? Loved ones? You won't be able to see them again if you do this-” Yaz’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, feeling the tiredness catching up to her temper, “So why are you doing this?”

“Because you need help!” she shot back hotly, glaring at Thirteen. Their eyes locked for a moment before a cark honked at them warningly and she gasped, yanking the steering wheel from where it had been drifting, heart hammering.

Thirteen was silent, but noises in the back told her that Graham and Ryan had woken up.

“‘S’happening?” mumbled Graham, and she sighed, blinking rapidly.

“I need a break from driving,” she said quietly, eyes glued once again to the tarmac, “Reckon we’re safe to crash at a holiday inn, Thirteen?”

“Double back first,” came the tired reply, “Just in case. If you don’t mind.”

Yaz sighed and started to indicate, regretting her sudden flare of temper. It wasn’t Thirteen’s fault- in fact, her questions had been completely sensible. But she didn’t have the answers, and that… that would need addressing.

***

The adrenaline of the evening had long given way to a deep ache that went straight through Thirteen, a miserable weight she couldn’t shift. It was like having lead tied to her wings, and she felt like she couldn’t have lifted them if she’d tried. She shrugged her coat off and slouched into the bathroom, ignoring Yasmin as she mechanically ran the coat under the hot tap. Blood slowly leeched from the fabric and flowed away down the drain, and she paid very little attention as the scalding water slowly turned her fingertips pink. Her mind was taken up with a single awful image, a figure crumpled on the floor who should never have been so still. The pain in Graham’s eyes as he looked at her- she could see the accusation that he didn’t voice, that he couldn’t help but feel because it was true, it was her fault-

“Thirteen!” Yasmin’s hand flashed in front of her face and she started, blinking wildly at the woman. 

“What?” she replied, eyes wide as she tensed.

“Nothing, you just- nothing, sorry.” She looked exasperated, and Thirteen shut off the water and dumped the coat over the shower wall to dry.

“Okay. Wake me up if there’s trouble,” she said, walking into the bedroom and examining the single bed. She snatched a pillow from it and tossed it to the ground, kneeling next to it.

“What… what are you doing?” Yasmin protested, hands on her hips, “You are not sleeping on the floor.”

“Well, you’re not, and I’m not going to-” she clamped her mouth shut, fighting down her temper. She was exhausted, grieving, her shoulder ached and stung, and she really just needed the persistent officer to shut up and let her rest.

“Thirteen, your shoulder! And your… everything else, I’m sure you got really hurt in that fight. The last thing your muscles need now is sleeping on a hard floor!”

“I’m not sleeping on the bed while you have the floor,” she snapped back, looking up at the woman from her position on the floor, “You’ve already sacrificed more than I can ever repay for me and you don’t even realise it yet. The least you can do is take the stupid bed.”

“I don’t want you to repay me, I-” Yasmin looked to be struggling for something, before her expression grew still and sad. “Would Grace let you sleep on the floor?” she ventured.  
  


An icy fist smashed Thirteen’s chest and she let out a tiny, shocked little gasp, eyes wide as she stared up at the officer in disbelief. “Grace-” she choked out the name, tears already starting at the corners of her eyes, “Grace would still be here if it wasn’t for me,” she gasped miserably, furious at Yasmin and at herself. Every word fell from her chest as if it was dragged, protesting. “I don’t get to ask that question. I forfeit the right when I got her killed.”

“Thirteen…” Yasmin’s voice was soft, apologetic, and she wanted none of it. She flung herself down, hard, onto her injured shoulder, and flared one wing out, trailing it over herself and creating a barrier between her and the other woman. Between her and the world. A gasping sob finally broke free from her chest and she couldn’t hold it in any longer, so behind her wing, she wept, desperate, brutal sobs that jolted her battered and bruised frame.

A moment later, something soft and heavy descended on her. She drew the blanket around herself, clinging to it desperately, and the lights went out. Left with nothing else to hold onto, she burrowed her arms into the cover and curled in on herself, silently taking Yaz for the one last defense she’d afforded her.

***

Graham watched cars pass and listened to birds sing in the wan dawn light. He had slept fitfully, dreams dark and haunted, and when he woke an impossible emptiness stretched before him. He’d never considered the possibility of a life without Grace. She had just… always been there, in his mind, when he dared to cast it towards the future. The future had been a source of fear for him for so long, but since meeting Grace she had always featured in it as a constant. Even if things got bad, got really bad, he had feared it so much less with her.

It had been so short a time, but already a million moments had gone by where he missed her. She’d have insisted Thirteen get her shoulder treated properly. She’d have made sure Ryan was okay instead of silently going to bed, as they both had done, wrapped up in a shared but separate tragedy. She’d have thanks Yaz properly for her help, and maybe even got her to reconsider the mad dash down the country, consider whether it was a good idea. Whether it was _worth_ it.

It had seemed so simple, a million years ago- how could it have just been yesterday, when he was sat on the sofa, arm around her, listening to her spin fantasies about getting Thirteen somewhere safe, about that somehow working out. But a fantasy was just what it was, and now the bloodshed had spilled into his life, and those certainties were falling away, crumbling like sandcastles on a beach.

And they weren’t helped, he reflected, glancing up as footsteps approached, by Thirteen herself.

He didn’t know how he expected her to look. In a quiet, out-shouted, honest part of his mind, a part that spoke in Grace’s voice, he knew that he would be furious with her no matter what. She had tried to warn them, but Grace was an absolute sucker for a lost soul, and Thirteen had a magnetic kind of quality to her. It was impossible for Grace not to want to help her, and in doing so she had been killed.

Knowing all of that didn’t stop an irrational flare of anger as he watched her approaching. She looked a sorry state yet again: in the daylight her injures from yesterday jumped out loudly. A fading purple bruise across her jaw was accompanied by a split lip, a hand that was gripping her side suggested she had taken some damage to her chest, and a stiffness to how she held her free shoulder where she had been so horrendously bitten wasn’t really necessary to tell him how much that probably hurt. But her expression… eyebrows pulled up apologetically, wide hazel eyes begging already, a grimace of pain but also of regret, of desperation.

His emotions twisted, pulling away from one another in opposite directions. He wanted to pity her, to feel sorry and to assure her that it wasn’t her fault, but a strong voice in his head protested it was her fault, and coming to him like this now wasn’t _fair_.

“Graham, I-”

  
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry lookin’ like that,” he protested, moving up on the bench so she could sit down. She did, perching as far away from him as the space allowed, gazing at him somberly. For a long time he just looked at her, trying to find the words that would express what he was feeling. It was hard, really hard.

“Do you want me to go?”

Her voice was flat, calm, almost vacant in it’s lack of emotion. He blinked, frowning cautiously at her.

“I can leave. I can fly away and you wont see me again. No more danger.” She was looking at him very seriously now- her voice was still even but he could see the cracks appearing in her facade. Desperation, it seemed, clawed it’s way out of her even when she tried to hold it in.

“Grace told me to do what was right,” he said, surprised by the evenness of his own tone, “So I am doing that. I’m going to stick with you and make sure you’re okay.”

“Is that what’s right?”

He paused, frowning. Grace would argue an emphatic yes. He knew she would, without a shadow of a doubt. But… that had gotten her killed. That blind insistence that doing what was right mattered more than anything else. Who might fall on that shining sword next? Was the truly right thing to do to protect what he had left? Keep Ryan safe, guide Yaz away?

He shook his head, pushing the idea away. He barely knew anything anymore, but he knew what was right. He did.

“Yes, Thirteen, it is.” He eyed her, feeling clarity for the first time in what felt like an impossibly long twelve hours, “You warned us of the danger. Grace… chose to keep helping you because she believed that was the right thing to do. And I believe that too. I-” he gritted his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment against the blinding morning light. “I will miss her, and I will feel resentful towards what happened- maybe even, towards you, for a little while. But… look at what’s after you. Look at what’s _happened_ to you.” He shook his head, a more sympathetic eye roving her features now, “Grace would never forgive me if I let my anger stop me from keeping you safe. Safe as I can, anyhow.” He wrinkled his nose.

Thirteen didn’t say anything for a long, long moment. Her gaze slid from him to the ground, skinny shoulders rising as her head dropped, hands wringing.

“I miss her so much,” she sighed, head lowering to her hands, “I’m truly… I’m sorry, I- she should never have… this shouldn’t have-”

Graham’s heart opened and he sighed, sidling along the bench to offer an arm, which to his surprise she lent into, weighing barely anything against his side. “I know,” he said heavily, sighing. Grace may not have known Thirteen long, but the kind of love his wife left in the world was strong, and it must have seemed especially warm to someone who had spent her entire life without. The impossible experiment tucked into a one-armed hug must’ve been seared with it, and now the light had been removed she was all the colder. He knew the desperate longing for the return of the sun, now facing as they both were, a winter that went on forever without her.

“I know,” was all he could offer up in comfort.

It was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its quarter past two am i really hope this is okay bc i'll tell you what im NOT doing is proofreading this even a little bit sorry lads.
> 
> in all seriousness I DO hope I got across Graham correctly, it was hard striking a balance that was relatable but also didn't make him look super callous- I know in cannon he never blames the doctor but I think in this situation it'd be a little hard for him not to harbour some amount of frustration towards her, even if he knows it's unfounded. mostly because in the show he was able to say a proper goodbye to Grace and mourn her where as here the grief is still super raw which we don't really see and I just think yeah if you force these versions of the characters together in this situation, I think this is what would happen.
> 
> sorry to anyone who feels I misrepresented anyone one direction or another, I WOULD be interested in your feedback but PLEASE don't yell at me or I will very cry.


	7. feel the wind on your shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody slept well. Thirteen goes to fetch something important, and everyone else is left to worry about her whilst she's gone.

Yaz scraped her hair up against her head and sighed, stifling a yawn. She didn’t think herself or Thirteen had slept especially well, but she didn’t feel like resting any more either. Thirteen’s need to be on the move was apparently infectious- or maybe she was just realising the reality of the situation. In the cold light of day the monsters and horrors from the previous night somehow hadn’t diminished-no, they’d grown in her mind, and she dreaded the arrival of more pursuers.

Should she go home? She checked her phone- missed call after missed call lit her screen and she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. What should she say? Everything she could do might put them in more danger. But were they in danger now? Was she putting them at risk by not telling them, or-

A knock at the door made her yelp, and the phone clattered into the sink. She retrieved it and went out of the bathroom to the door, peeping through the eyehole. It was Ryan. She opened the room and he smiled thinly at her, expression drawn. “Time to go,” he murmured, and she put a hand on his arm. “How are you doing?” she asked kindly, and his eyes dropped from hers, looking at his feet.

“Bad,” he admitted, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, “Barely slept. Graham is-” his expression and voice were both strained, “It’s… more awkward than I thought it’d be. Isn’t that a weird thing to be focusing on, right now?” He let out a nervous, humourless laugh, and she smiled, trying to grant him a little levity. “I think everyone reacts differently,” she said cautiously, wandering back into the room to grab all her stuff- not that she’d had much on her.

“Yeah,” was the only reply she got, as they left, padding down the corridors of the hotel. They were silent down the quiet halls- it was still very early, and it wasn’t especially busy in any case. Every identical door seemed to hold a potential monster behind it for Yaz. She watched Ryan carefully, but he was resolutely staring down at the generic patterned carpet.

“You could probably go, you know,” Ryan’s expression was wrinkled in thought as they waited for the lift, “I don’t think you’re… I mean, you’ve not been as tangled up in this. Don’t you wanna go home?”

Yaz chewed her lip as they got into the small box, thinking. She had been wracking her brains for the answer. Why was she so willing to drop everything? Her job hadn’t exactly been exciting but it had been _ something _ . It had been safe, secure, her family were always close by… she had been begging for something more interesting but this? This was honestly plain terrifying. But maybe, just maybe, it was interesting too. Interesting enough to keep her engaged, present. Viscerally, terrifyingly present, but present. And then there was Thirteen. As terrifying as the situation was… the woman was achingly lonely and afraid, it emanated from everything she did. The desperate panic that edged her eyes, the haunted, twitchy way she moved, the hard edge to her voice that clearly masked a barely concealed ocean of pain just waiting to flood.

“Isn’t she worth it,” she wondered out loud as they walked into the foyer, before blinking in surprise, glancing up at Ryan apologetically, “I mean. Nothing is worth- I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head with a tired smile, that was overwhelmed with sadness very quickly as they stepped outside, spotting Thirteen talking quietly with Graham in the icy morning light. “Nah, I know what you mean. How could we stay away now?”

***

Ryan shot Yaz one more significant glance before turning his attention to Graham and Thirteen, both of whom glanced up at him with similarly haunted looks. Thirteen looked a little panicked, rising from the bench and starting to wring her hands, a habit he’d noticed her doing since they’d been out and about. Before she could say anything, he cut her off.   
  
“You okay?”

She stopped, mouth half open, eyebrows drawn together sharply as she blinked at him. Evidently, that hadn’t been the greeting she’d expected, and he could see the thoughts flickering behind her eyes as she examined him nervously. Eventually she closed her mouth and nodded, her face relaxing infinitesimally. “You?” she asked quietly, expression somehow much older and younger than her features suggested. He smiled sadly.

“Been better,” he breathed, voice dry. He was trying not to think too much about his own internal situation too much- how his chest seemed to be just a little short on breath, how his eyes and throat burned and how his heart felt literally broken in his chest, a painful lump that laboured under a dual heartbreak now. Memories of hospitals and bad times were trying to invade his thoughts, and he could see that now familiar desperation staring back at him out of Thirteen’s eyes.

He’d felt this pain before, and it was just as unyielding now. Great heavy curtains of grief weighed darkly on him and threatened to drag him into immobility. It was a cruel kind of pain, the sort that kept him imagining it just had to lift, that there was some magic moment where it all stopped hurting so much and he could stand again under the weight. But Ryan knew, he had learned, that there was no relief, save in company. The only thing that made it any better, there under the crushing mountain of loss, was knowing you weren’t shouldering it alone.

Grace had helped him lift it last time. He guessed that Thirteen had been struggling with pain and loss alone her whole life- Sisyphus, he remembered from school, labouring under his boulder, doomed to always have it roll back down the hill as soon as it got near the top. Showing her how to share it might just be the sole thing that kept him from becoming trapped in misery. With nothing left to do, Ryan would reach out.

“So, we gettin’ going then?” he asked, as Graham stood too and walked over to join them. The older man looked taut with worry but Ryan didn’t feel like entering into that conversation just yet. That was one strain too many on an already finely balanced relationship. Graham had already tried to catch his eye multiple times, but Ryan resolutely ignored him. 

“I need to… go and fetch something,” Thirteen announced, blinking up at them anxiously.

“Is it far out the way? We’re still heading to London, right?” Yaz asked, expression unreadable.

“It wont be far out of the way, no,” Thirteen’s fingers were curling and uncurling again, “But I need to go alone.”

Yaz glanced at Ryan quickly, and his own alarm was reflected back at him. “Thirteen,” he started, feeling unease rising, “You can’t just go off alone, not right now.”

“I have to,” she said, frowning at him stubbornly, “I wont be long, honestly.” Her eyes were huge, innocent, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of panic- like letting her out of their sight might be the last time they ever saw her. He could feel the nerves emanating off of Graham and Yaz too.

“Thirteen…” Graham’s “reasonable Grandad” voice was strained, almost as strained as when he used it on Ryan, “I- look, we- I know a lot has happened and we- we’re trying here but- how- how…”

“How do we know you’re gonna come back?” Ryan finished flatly, wishing Graham hadn’t voiced the thought. Thirteen was getting the same agitated look in her eye he’d seen in the hospital-  _ like a cornered animal _ , he thought, heart sinking. “I- I’ll meet up with you,” she said imploringly, “I will, I- I promise. I-” her voice went very quiet, “I wouldn’t leave you like that, not after… not after everything that’s happened.”

Graham looked his way and this time Ryan did meet his eye, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He wanted to believe Thirteen wouldn’t just bolt without admitting to it, at the very least. They had given up a lot, they had lost a lot. He’d thought they were facing up to it as a team- an ill fitting, lopsided team, but a team.

“Alright,” Graham conceded defeatedly, shrugging. Ryan understood. They’d followed her this far. What was one more leap of faith? “Where are we meeting you?”

“Watford Gap,” Thirteen said decisively, a lot more confident now that she had gotten their approval. Belatedly, Ryan realised that she had been asking for their  _ permission _ to leave. He closed his eyes for a moment in horror. It didn’t look like Yaz or Graham had realised.

“I don’t see why we can’t just come with you,” Yaz said unhappily, and Thirteen favoured them with a rare grin, a twinkle in her eye. Just a glimpse of the person she was when all the pain and terror were set aside- a sharp wit that belied a great intelligence.

“I’ll be faster on my own, trust me,” she said.

***

They had walked about five minutes away from the motorway, into the fields. The noise of the road was muted but at least the cars themselves were out of sight. Thirteen felt the curious eyes of the three humans at her back and suppressed a sigh. After everything that she’d put them through, she supposed indulging their curiosity just a little wasn’t the end of the world. They had wanted to watch and she really didn't feel like she could deny them that. Not after everything she'd put them through for her sake. And besides which, it wasn't like they hadn't already seen her wings. Keeping them hidden in front of them now would be remiss anyway. She stopped at a treeline, examining the surroundings. No other witnesses but a stiff wind and a blazing sunrise.

“Alright,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and flashing Ryan, Yaz and Graham an easy smile, “I’ll see you at Watford Gap before the end of the day.”

They all nodded and she turned around, facing the open field. With a heady rush of nerves she unfurled her wings from under her coat, and ducked her head in embarrassment at the appreciative gasps from behind her.

“They’re beautiful, Thirteen,” Yaz’s voice was a reverent whisper, and she mumbled a word of thanks. The morning light was especially kind to her plumage- a deep russet red near her back graduated to brilliant blue striped with black, and striking black and white striped secondaries reminiscent of a magpie’s accompanied paler gray primaries, each as long as her forearm at least. Fully unfurled in the rising sun her wingspan was wider than she was tall, and she couldn’t help feel a minute sense of pride. It wasn’t easy being what she was, but with the wind at her back, tugging her feathers eagerly, it was easier to bear.

Without another look back, she set off at a run, coat flapping as she gathered speed, and with a powerful leap she was swept up into the air easily by a rising gust. Windy days were good days for getting airborne, and she thanked the kindly weather as it blasted her up several hundred feet, away from the humans, away from the agony. The countryside shrank away underneath her, the cars on the M1 slowing to a crawl and the land just warming into it’s daylight colours. She barely had to flap to keep herself moving- her wings flared stiffly and held taut like a kite, and she simply angled them to change her direction.

The frozen, airless sky might’ve been dangerous, but her system was avian in more ways than one. Her lungs were much more efficient than a human’s, taking in more air and holding onto reserves whilst she flew, and her body ran cool, needing less heat to get by. In any case, she enjoyed the bite of cold on her face and the tangle of wind in her hair: the breathless ecstasy of flight was the only time she felt a hundred percent herself. She adjusted her wings slightly and England spun beneath her, until she was facing west, with the morning sun at her back. With steady wingbeats she propelled herself into the new day, through a pristine sky filled with golden light.

***

“She’ll come back,” Ryan said at length, after several miles of nervous silence, although his voice didn’t exactly sound happy.

Graham glanced at him in the rear-view mirror before returning his attention to the road. He wished he had the young man’s confidence. He could see Yaz’s eyes flicking restlessly to the sky through the windshield and he knew she wasn’t so sure either. Watching Thirteen vanish into the morning had felt incredibly nerve wracking. Suddenly, they were alone, miles from home, expected to keep heading south. Expected to keep following Thirteen’s vague semblance of a plan. He wondered for about the millionth time if she’d thought any further than putting as much distance between them and Sheffield as possible.

“How d’you know?” asked Yaz, turning in her seat to look at Ryan, “I mean, I know she  _ said _ she would, but... how can you be so confident?”

“Didn’t you see her face when she was askin’ us to go off on her own?”

“I mean, yeah,” Graham frowned, “She looked like a frightened rabbit, but she always does. What’re you trying to say?”

“Think about it for a second,” Ryan said patiently, “At any point, has she done, or tried to do, anything you’ve asked her not to do?”

“Are you kiddin’?” Graham replied incredulously, “I thought she was gonna knock us out when we tried to take her to the hospital. I mean, not that I blame her- she keeps mentioning this “lab,” it sounds pretty sick if you ask me, but-”

“But she went into the hospital anyway,” Yaz’ voice sounded like she’d come to a realisation and Graham found himself scowling, wishing they’d explain it properly, “Because you _ asked  _ her to. Oh…” He glanced at her as she put a hand to her forehead, and winced. He thought back to all the things Thirteen had done- rested, let them treat her, stayed instead of running off, letting Grace take her to the hospital…

“She did every single thing we asked her,” he realised quietly, feeling slightly sick.

He saw Ryan’s head bob in a nod in the rear-view mirror.

“She didn’t even move when Nan was cutting her neck open with a scalpel,” he said darkly, voice thick, “And she spent so long wanting to run off and hide but she didn’t. I mean, she stuck with us last night even though she would’ve had _ no  _ problem flying off and leaving. And it probably would’ve been easier for her than being around us after…you know.” his voice trailed off sadly.

“But- we only asked her to do stuff she should’ve done anyway,” protested Yaz, “I mean, it’s not like we’re asking her to do something that’s going to hurt her.”

“Aren’t we?” Graham wondered out loud, uncertain all of a sudden. Something Grace had said floated back to Graham, a single phrase.  _ It’s so much crueller than I thought. _

“What d’you mean?” Yaz frowned, and Graham grimaced.

“Would you expect a wild bird to fly back to you after you let it go?” he murmured.

“She’s not a bird,” Yaz argued hotly, “Not… not mostly, anyway. She’s a person first and foremost.”

“I think she might be both,” Ryan mused slowly, voice thoughtful, “That must be hard. She’s got all those… flighty bird instincts, but at the same time, she’s cryin’ out for someone to help her,” He made a hissing noise of sympathetic pain between his teeth, before his tone grew harsh, “And clearly, whoever’s been… in charge of her up ‘til now didn’t see the need to give either side of her what she needs.”

“That’s not a happy combination,” Yaz sighed, going back to gazing moodily out of the window. Graham couldn't help but agree. He wondered, with a sudden, guilty pang in his heart if he had been following Grace's instruction at all. He wanted to do the right thing for Thirteen but it seemed that figuring out what exactly that was was uncertain. Then again, it seemed that Grace had figured it out before any of them, and she had been pretty clear in her actions about what she thought the nervous woman needed. And by all accounts, avian instincts seemed to drive almost everything she did. He'd certainly have to adjust his thinking slightly, he mused, as he reflected on the new information.

Assuming she did indeed show up again, as she'd promised.

***

The old stonework of Oxford was a tidy patchwork far below her in the mid-morning light. The sun hadn’t climbed that far since she’d set off, spanning the distance in under an hour by her rough estimate. Stretching her wings after so long felt blissful, and she felt so energised that she could’ve flown all day, bruises be damned. She knew she couldn’t, however, and she was anxious to see if what she was after was still here. Thirteen was arcing in slow, deliberate circles, high up on a thermal updraft that tickled her feathers and lifted her hair into a chaotic tangle around her ears. She really should land out in the countryside and walk into the city but… Maybe if she dropped down in the midday sun no-one would be looking up?

It was uncharacteristically risky, but her bones were light and free with flying all morning. Flying properly and without pursuit for the first time since she had last been captured by the lab had her feeling more herself than she had since crash landing two nights prior. And she was anxious to check back in with Ryan, Yaz and Graham. That _wasn’t_ like her, but it was an unexpectedly incessant tug. She didn’t want to let them down, and the sooner she got back to them, the sooner she could prove she was worthy of their trust. She hated the idea of worrying them any more than she already had, and especially hated the concern that had been implied that she was cutting and running in the wake of tragedy. It hurt because there was no small amount of truth in it- running was what she did, what she _always_ did, no matter the consequence. Freedom, to her, was paramount.

Decidedly, she angled her body downwards, contouring her wings into the breeze so that she dropped smoothly through the quiet air. Falling was an indescribable rush, the most alive and the happiest she ever felt- nothing but the wind in her face and her wings, the one thing she could trust behind her. As the ground rapidly approached she flared them out and shot towards the tallest tower in the city (a Gothic bell-tower on a church), landing within a few seconds of being in sight of the ground. She gasped in lungfuls of air and let out a breathless giggle as she lent against a stone spire, listening carefully for any shouts. It sounded like she’d gotten away with it- good.

The bell tower was four cornered and typically ostentatious- Oxford seemed to have more frippery than it knew what to do with. She smirked as she felt around the brickwork, knowing that the person she was looking for would have certainly been here recently, if he was at liberty to travel. It was just his sort of place- books and learned individuals- and they'd had many a teasing argument about it. She didn't see the appeal, personally, in hanging out with a place full of people who took themselves too seriously and were highly likely to try and make some sort of study out of her. A beaten up old stone came loose under her fingers and she hissed in triumph, kneeling down, wings flared for balance. A tiny space had been hollowed behind the brick, and she reached nimble fingers in to snag the objects contained there.

The cache yielded an unfussy mobile phone and a single feather. It was larger than a normal birds but not a primary- nothing anyone would need to fly. It looked like it had come from someone’s axillaries, and she ran her fingers over it, a wide grin splitting her face. It was a pale cream colour with ash brown stripes running the length of it. She lifted it to eye level and spun it in her fingers, eyes glinting.

“See you soon,” she murmured, unable to keep flutter of hope from her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a lil' tired and a lot stressed and tonight's episode broke me so I decided to just ignore cannon and finish this off instead. I wonder who's about to show up!
> 
> also, THANK YOU ALL SO BLOODY MUCH FOR YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS ON LAST CHAPTER AAAA you guys seriously are so great, love y'all!!!!!!!! <3


	8. be careful of what it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan, Yaz and Graham are pleased to see Thirteen again, and Thirteen is pleased to see them. Yaz has to deal with some difficult decisions.

Thirteen landed heavily in a field, breathing hard. It had been more tiring than she remembered, flying all day, and her wings ached in the rapidly setting sun. She slipped a hand in her pocket, feeling reassured that the phone and feather were still in place. Stealing a quick glance to make sure she was unobserved, she stretched her arms above her head and shook her wings out, before tucking them beneath the pale blue coat. She was famished and surprisingly eager to get back to Yaz, Ryan and Graham. Flying back had felt oddly urgent, fears plaguing her as she hurried south throughout the afternoon. Even in the sky she couldn’t keep her mind light- it was weighed down with worries. It was strange, to be running  _ to _ something instead of from it. Misgivings swirled in her mind like complicated patterns in seafoam as water rushed in and out of shore. What was she doing, going back? Wasn’t that the first rule, never look back?

Still, she ignored the anxious, flighty feeling in her mind as she saw Ryan, Graham and Yaz again, ignoring the tug of wind on her coat as she smiled shyly through the window of the service station at them. Ryan spotted her first and his troubled expression split into a wide, relieved grin, instantly tapping Yaz on the arm. The three humans trotted outside to greet her, and she was hit with an upsetting rush of panic as they barrelled towards her, and the wind muttered more urgently to her to run. Her alarm must’ve shown on her face because they slowed down and Ryan put down his arms- clearly, he’d been aiming for a hug and she pressed her lips together gratefully as she blinked up at him.

“You’re back,” Yaz said, eyes roving her face for information. She nodded with an exhausted smile, unnerved by how pleased she was to see them again. “Thanks for waiting,” she murmured, shoving her hands into her pockets. It was obvious from how relieved they were to see her that they hadn’t been entirely sure she’d be back. She couldn’t blame them- every wingbeat back towards them had been opposed by her more nervous instincts, but they had waited for her anyway, in spite of everything.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Graham asked kindly, and she nodded, brightening a little. “I’ll show you in a minute-” she said, but her sentence was interrupted by an embarrassing complaint from her stomach, and she grimaced. Graham’s lips twitched towards a smile that didn’t quite take, but his eyes were still warm as he tilted his head back towards the lights of the services. “Time to eat,” he suggested, and she nodded gratefully. Flying all day had exhausted her. She’d be able to think much more clearly after a sit down and some food. Her legs wobbled slightly as they all filed back into the building, the greasy smell of fried food and fluorescent lighting assaulting her finely-tuned senses.

A few minutes later and they were all sat in plastic chairs and she tried to remember her manners as she demolished two burgers in neat, efficient bites. Ryan Yaz and Graham were very polite about how much she had to eat, but Ryan was eyeing her rapidly vanishing chicken nuggets with a twinkle in his eye. She paused with one in hand, looking between him and the snack with a raised eyebrow.

“Isn’t that like… cannibalism?” he joked, and she laughed. Yaz chuckled too, and Graham snorted into his sprite.

“Cannibalism or no, I forgot how great these things are,” she said with relish, before taking another bite. Fast food was a rare treat- she usually had to scrounge and scavenge what she could, and it was usually stale bread or leftover bruised fruit. It got her through but something so stuffed with calories as a hamburger was much more in line with what she really needed- she burned through energy like crazy, and she was almost always a little hungry. Flying in particular made her famished, and as a result she was especially fond of sugary snacks.

“So, what did you get?” Yaz said, and Thirteen glanced around, quickly cataloging the area. It was fairly late in the day by that point, and the station was quiet. She wiped her fingers and reached carefully into her pocket to draw out the feather, holding it in the middle of the table so they could see.

“That’s not one of yours,” Graham said slowly, frowning at it.

“No,” she said, “It’s not.”

“Then…” Yaz’s eyes lit with excitement, voice low, “There are more of you?” she asked, and Thirteen nodded.

“I guess “Thirteen” kind of implies that,” Ryan mused slowly, nodding to himself. She put the feather back into her pocket with another nervous glance around. 

“We try not to all hang out together- don’t want all the eggs in one basket, y’know,” her dark little quip didn’t go unnoticed, and Graham and Ryan exchanged a quick look, “but it’ll be good to catch up with someone and get an idea of the lay of the land. It’ll… give me a better idea of what’s going on.” She felt guilt creep into her expression as she looked at them, once again being faced with the fact that they’d followed her into this madness, and she had no clear plan of what would happen next. But she’d figure one out, when she’d managed to track him down.

***

As she checked into another hotel, Yaz tried her best to ignore the curious look of the receptionist as she collected her keys, the woman’s eyes flicking between the young police officer and her blonde companion. She hurried away, feeling the anxiety rolling off Thirteen in waves, even before the nervous whisper.

“Why was she staring at us so much?”

“She was probably just really bored and making up a story about us,” Yaz said absently, squinting at the floor plan next to the lift before pressing the call button, “Although whatever it was wont be anywhere near as interesting as the truth.”

Thirteen was frowning quizzically at her, and Yaz felt a tiny grin tug the side of her mouth. “You’ve never worked in customer service, have you?” she guessed. A fragile little laugh escaped the experiment as she shook her head.

“Never really worked. Not-” hazel eyes closed in the way they did with Thirteen was suppressing some unpleasant memory, almost automatically but accompanied by a short intake of breath. It hurt to watch. “Not for money, anyway.” The lift dinged and Yaz was left with the upsetting implications of that statement as the woman ambled into the box. Oh, she was sure Thirteen had done plenty of  _ work _ , for whoever had decided to create her. Joining her in the lift, Yaz felt another surge of protectiveness, wanting to make herself a physical barrier between the scattered, scared woman and the world.

“So Ryan and Graham are-”

“They’ll come to our room once they’ve checked theirs out and you can do what you need to do with three pairs of eyes looking out,” Yaz reviewed automatically, giving Thirteen her warmest, most reassuring smile. There was only a quick bob of a head in acknowledgement, but the way the woman hovered almost close enough to touch told her that Thirteen’s flighty nerves were bothering her again. It was enough to make Yaz feel an anger that almost frightened her with it’s intensity- she wasn’t a violent person, but she was sure she’d bury anyone who tried to hurt Thirteen.

Mercifully, the room had two beds this time around. As soon as the door was shut she wandered over to one as Thirteen tossed her coat over the back of a chair. Any time her outer layer was off, her wings were unmissable- they very nearly poked out from under the coat, and even folded back they would have never had been hidden under anything even remotely fitting. Yaz found it impossible not to stare- they were breathtakingly beautiful, dusty ochre tops graduating to magpie-like black and white at the tips, and flashes of iridescent blue that caught the light. Thirteen paused at the door to the bathroom and glanced at her, and Yaz blushed, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking at her knees automatically before she had to face the woman’s inevitable wounded expression, “I- still not used to them.”

“It’s alright,” she glanced up, and Thirteen’s expression looked cold in the harsh fluorescent light from the bathroom, “I get it. They’re kind of hard to ignore.” She shuffled them slightly, exactly like a bird refolding it’s wings, and vanished into the bathroom.

Yaz palmed her forehead and let herself flop backwards onto the bed. The mattress descended with a dismal groan, and her phone buzzed yet again. She echoed the bed and brought the screen to her face, eyes widening in alarm as she read the latest text from her boss. “Er, Thirteen,” she said, trying to keep the worry from her voice as she sat up. She’d obviously not been successful, as the woman was out of the bathroom in an instant, one arm out of her shirt and blood seeping from the healing wounds on her shoulder from the bite the previous day.

“What happened to you?” Yaz asked, momentarily distracted. 

“I was cleaning it, flying all day didn’t do it much good,” Thirteen said dismissively, shrugging an arm back into her shirt and crossing to Yaz with an intense frown, “Why did you say my name in that tone of voice? What’s happened, are we safe?”

“Y-yeah, we’re fine, but- my boss said people have started asking after me at work. I- that’s them, right? The people after you? Asking questions about where I went and who I was with?” She had delayed making a decision on what to do, and now it had been made for her. “I can’t go back, can I?”

She looked up into Thirteen’s eyes, still sitting on the bed, and realised very suddenly how intimidating that frown could be. The focus was absolute, an inhuman amount of attention on Yaz’s anxious expression, her own giving nothing away. After a long moment staring, Thirteen shrugged and backed away, her own expression not moving. “You could go back,” she said, still staring, “You could go back, but they would be there. And you would have to tell them about me. They would make you tell them, if they thought they could. You saw what they do- you saw what they  _ are _ .”

Yaz wished she was stood too- she wanted to reassure Thirteen, but she felt like a frightened child perched on the end of the bed, not the in-control adult she wanted to be. She shook her head. “I wouldn’t tell them about you,” she insisted, and Thirteen shook her head fervently.

“You wouldn’t have a choice,” she hissed, voice snarled with fear masquerading as anger, “You would- they- they can get stuff out of people. They don’t even have to hurt you, they can- they can- they have a way of… getting people to talk.” Her wings had started extending behind her, half-fanned and bristling in alarm, “It’s risky to stay away,” Thirteen continued, expression still closed and hostile, exactly as when Yaz had first laid eyes on her, “What if you can never go back?”

“Why- what does that even mean?” now Yaz was on her feet, although she didn’t remember getting there, and Thirteen’s chin jerked up to keep her gaze, “Why wont I be able to go back?”

Thirteen shook her head, lip curling. “I tried to warn you, and you didn’t listen,” she muttered, before raising her voice and looking back at Yaz, “You’re not involved as much yet. You could still walk away, you could go  _ home _ . You could be safe.”

“I wouldn’t feel right being safe knowing you weren’t,” Yaz countered, and Thirteen’s expression twitched in pain. She pressed on anyway. “I know you don’t think I should be here but- I do. You guys need me. I want to help you, Thirteen.”

Thirteen was silent for a long moment, expression still dark as she regarded Yaz. “Fine,” she snapped finally, tucking her wings tightly to her body with a sharp, sudden movement, “But you need to stop having contact with home. It’s safer for us  _ and _ them.” She kept watching hawkishly, and Yaz nodded slowly. She wouldn’t back out now, no matter how painful. Thirteen was just  _ waiting  _ for her to give up and run home. She’d prove her wrong. She’d make sure she was the one who stayed by the poor woman’s side, no matter what.

“Can I message them to say I’m safe,” she asked quietly, and Thirteen shrugged. “Keep it brief, if you must,” she advised quietly, turning away, “Then I’d suggest you turn your phone off and keep it off.” The woman trailed silently back into the bathroom, leaving a space full of tension. Yaz chewed her lip and fought back tears as she started to write a message home.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology drifted through the open bathroom door, and the thickness in Thirteen’s voice told her she wasn’t the only one holding back tears.

***

  
With her injuries cleaned and dressed with some medical supplies Yaz had helpfully picked up at a chemists earlier that day, Thirteen was feeling a little more relaxed. Her shoulder ached dully and the bullet wound, whilst healing well, was complaining at the day’s pressures. She was running her fingers over the feather in her lap, sat cross legged on one of the two beds and trying to avoid Yaz’s eye.

Her almost-argument with the younger woman had nettled the young police officer, she knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologise properly. She had mumbled one from within the bathroom like a coward, but _ I’m sorry _ felt so ludicrously inadequate in the face of what Yaz was doing for her. For  _ her _ , for some broken lab rat who got too big for her cage and was now dragging others into her dark and dangerous life. If something happened to Graham, Ryan  _ or  _ Yaz, she didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself.

Oh, but she was already letting herself go on when she had gotten Grace killed. A derisive snarl twisted her lip as one shaking hand stopped stroking the feather and curled instead into a fist, knuckles white in her lap as furious tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked them away with an insistent breath, closing her eyes and listening once more. Nothing nearby that she could hear. She’d have to be so much more vigilant. She could protect the three of them and stay alive herself. And figure out how to set everything right. They would go home, somehow.

A knock on the door startled her and she jumped, the bed creaking loudly. Yaz shot her a sympathetic look as she passed, and she tried to smooth out her expression before Ryan and Graham arrived. The pair arrived as a good-natured distraction, and Graham immediately sent her a warm smile that was as comforting as it was becoming familiar. She blinked gratefully at him and let out a shuddering sigh.

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” he asked kindly, settling into one of the chairs whilst Ryan and Yaz both perched on the other bed, also watching her expectantly. She glanced down to the feather in her lap. “I can use this to get some sense of where he’s been and how long ago,” she explained, hand hovering over the feather, “But I need to concentrate and I-” she bit her lip self consciously. She hated needing people. Usually she took off somewhere high and isolated to read feathers. But she had to admit, Ryan had made a great point about travelling by road- it would be unexpected for her. And in any case, if she flew any more that day her wings would fall off.

“Go ahead, love, we’ll keep an eye out,” Graham said, and she nodded, taking a breath and bracing herself. She didn’t want to waste any more time. Closing her eyes, Thirteen reached out to the feather with her fingers and probed with her mind.

She was flooded with sensations- the impression of great barred brown wings, flecked with pale cream and silent. Long spidery fingers flicked expressively in the air and gangly limbs danced and twisted. The laughter of a girl with blonde hair and warm liquid eyes sung in the memories and Thirteen gasped, thrown out of the psychic impression with the force of the emotions it contained. She put a finger to her eye and laughed shakily, touching the wet digits together.

“He’s very emotional,” she breathed, by way of explanation to Ryan, Yaz and Graham, all of whom were looking worried, “But I got what I needed from that. Still hanging around London, still a hopeless romantic,” a fond smile was warming her face in spite of herself. She tucked the feather happily into her coat pocket, before taking the phone out and reaching for a piece of paper that she’d left on the bedside table. She started scrawling circles and arcs on it, rings bisected with smaller circles, a mess that looked vaguely like gears but much more like a random directionless geometric doodle.

“We created a code,” she explained as she worked, “So we could communicate untraceably, even if someone was reading through our messages. When we’re nearby each other we can…” She tapped her temple and glanced up at the humans, who were all paying rapt attention, “But I gotta make sure we’re in the right sort of vicinity first, y’know.” She hoped she wasn’t going to create bigger problems down the line, but not providing some sort of context felt somehow wrong. They had come this far for her, she at least owed them an explanation of what exactly her plan was. Such as it was a plan, but she felt confident if she could execute this part, she’d have a better idea of what to do.

“So that’s your code?” Ryan said, squinting at the scribbles, and she nodded, using the phone she’d picked up to snap a quick photo. “It’s adaptable to location, so the fact that this is geotagged in Watford Gap becomes a part of the cipher to decode it.”

“That’s… brilliant,” Yaz hummed admiringly, and she ducked her head with an embarrassed grin, “Well, you know. Necessity is the mother of invention,” she replied airly, “And, also, they uh.” She blinked at the humans, suddenly unsure. “Our minds weren’t left alone either. Probably not their best move, making all their sentient science experiments hyper-smart, really.” She wrinkled her nose. Yaz was looking pitying again, but Graham was giving her a strained grin, and Ryan just raised his eyebrows with a low whistle, “Add it to the list of not-great moves,” he muttered darkly. She laughed, surprised and endeared.

“So when will he text back?” asked Yaz.

“I don’t text until tomorrow. We need to be away from here before I text that photo- geo-tagging, remember? But he’s in London, so we’ll head in that direction tomorrow and organise the fine details en-route.” She smiled confidently at them, relieved that at least today, she was going to bed with some idea of what was coming tomorrow.

Hopefully, a familiar face, and a clearer idea of how to proceed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS SORRY FOR THE GAP IN UPDATES, I'm literally writing this as I go so I have no backup chapters anywhere so when I get sick like I did this past week I have nothing for you! but uh on the plus side........everything is made fresh to order? asamfl sorry y'all.
> 
> ONCE AGAIN I GOTTA SAY,
> 
> I CAN'T BELIEVE EXPERIMENT THIRTEEN IS CANON. The weakest part of this story was gonna have to be me making up a scientist character to have messed with child!thirteen and canon literally delivered one to me on a goddamn platter so GET EXCITED FOR THOSE FLASHBACKS, THANK YOU CHIBNAL XOXOX


	9. and the night over London lay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen gets spooked after a conversation about shed feathers. Ryan, Yaz and Graham finally meet Thirteen's mysterious friend.

Under a crisp, clear blue sky, icy in the early-spring air, the little car threaded it’s way down the motorway towards the capital city. Gradually fields and woods gave way to buildings and boulevards, and then high streets and stadiums and a cacophony of sprawling buildings that layered over one another, clamouring for space. London was an overgrown garden, with businesses squatting under old bridges, pubs crammed in between glossy department stores, patchworks of neighborhoods with varying and clashing characters, overlaid with parks and greens, cemeteries and churches, tube stations and bus stops.

Thirteen shrank in her seat as they slowed to a crawl, pulling her hood further over her face. The sheer volume of people in the city made it ideal for someone hiding in plain sight, but she had never had her associate’s capacity for crowds. He thrived on them, where she preferred to be around as few people as possible. She was gradually learning that she wasn’t good at talking to people- her interactions with Graham, Ryan and Yaz always felt a little off, and she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t all nerves. She didn’t know quite what to say to any of them- her conversation pool was pretty tiny, and she felt guilty every time she looked at them.

Graham pulled the car towards the entrance they’d been advised to use and thumbed the keypad through the window. Yaz had had the clever idea to use an app that had let them rent someone’s empty flat for a couple of days, and Thirteen could tell the three humans were looking forwards to some vague hint of normalcy. She was simply itching to make her rendezvous, and she was faced with a long afternoon of nothing ahead of her.

The flat was neat and tidy, and there was a collective sigh as they entered, tensions melting away somewhat as the door shut behind them. Ryan instantly beelined for the sofa and collapsed onto it, and Graham wandered straight to the kettle and lifted it over the sink. “Cuppa, anyone?” he asked with a tired smile. Ryan mumbled an assent, and Yaz crossed over to Graham, offering to make the tea instead. Thirteen yawned cavernously before wrestling words back into her mouth on the tail end.

“-not for me, thanks,” she mumbled, rolling her shoulders stiffly and unfurling her wings, stretching them out behind her. Her entire body was complaining- the flight yesterday had perhaps been a tad rash, considering how long it had been since she’d last been out for such a long journey, and being crammed in the car as they struggled through the Surrey traffic for hours had given them pins and needles. She couldn’t entirely stifle a groan as she let them extend fully, before drawing them back towards her body and shaking them out. A couple of lose feathers detached from her wings and floated languidly down, and she stooped to retrieve them.

She was surprised by Ryan’s hand, and she yelped and jumped backwards as he crouched next to her. “Sorry, mate!” he winced apologetically, holding out his hand, “Thought I’d help you tidy up.”

He held out a bright blue covert to her, eyes wide and apologetic. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before picking them up,” he said worriedly, “I mean, they’re yours, I guess it’s probably personal…”

Thirteen rocked back on her feet with a smile and let herself fold into a cross legged position on the floor, taking the feather and twirling it pensively in her fingers, examining it with a mixture of fondness and bitterness. “I’ve got plenty more,” she murmured, “I’m not precious about them, you just startled me. I try not to leave them laying around- giant jay feathers are probably a pretty big signpost that I’ve been somewhere.” Her expression wrinkled into a frown. It was a pretty thing, bright brilliant blue striped with black, almost as long as her forearm. It was a shame something so nice looking betrayed her secret so much. She loved her wings- they were a part of her, and the freedom that came with flight was an undeniable truth, but sometimes they felt like leaden weights tied to her back, a danger, an affront to nature and a denial of her chance to be normal.

Ryan holding out a handful of the remaining feathers she’d scattered distracted her from her troubled musings and she blinked and took them with a smile, scrambling to her feet and ambling into the kitchenette and tapping the bin with her foot. Yaz glanced in her direction as she steeped a tea bag and winced in protest.

“Wait, you’re just gonna throw them away??” she asked, eyes widening. Thirteen paused with her handful of feathers hovering awkwardly over the bin. 

“What else would I do with them?” she asked, baffled, “New ones have grown in, they’re no use now, they’re worn out. Just need to get them out of sight, you know.”

Yaz looked lost for words for a moment, her mouth open but no noise coming out, and a faint flush crept across her cheeks as she appeared to struggle for words. Finally she shut her mouth, fidgeting, and said, “Would it be weird if I asked for one?”

It was Thirteen’s turn to let her jaw drop open, as she processed Yaz’s odd request. Graham, behind Yaz and brewing his own tea, caught the blonde’s eye with a knowing smirk and exited to the living room, leaving the baffled experiment alone with Yaz- or as alone as the open-plan flat allowed.

“Why would you want one of my feathers?” she asked eventually, realising an uncomfortable amount of time had passed. Yaz suddenly turned her attention back to her tea, stirring it noisily without removing the teabag as she muttered.

“Well, you know, they’re just… really beautiful, Thirteen.”

Thirteen glanced back to the feathers in her hands. She wondered if Yaz saw her wings as a nuisance, a hazard, or if she saw only the marvel, the miracle of science, the supposed beauty. She shrugged and extracted the blue covert that Ryan had picked up, and another dark rust coloured feather, a similar length to the other, that originated near her back. It suddenly _did_ feel oddly personal, and a thrill of something that felt like fear but wasn’t awoke in her chest. The feathers were very tangible evidence she existed. Putting them in Yaz’s hands was giving the young woman an unnerving amount of power over her. But then again, hadn’t everything else that had happened done that too? The only difference was this time she was choosing.

“Just don’t leave them lying around,” she mumbled shyly, feeling a blush creep onto her own cheeks, “And, you know, be… be careful of who you show them to.”

Yaz took them, eyes wide. “I promise,” she said solemnly, “I would never do anything to put you at risk, Thirteen, you know that.”

Thirteen looked away as she went to toss the remaining feathers, swallowing uneasily.

“You do know that, right?”

That was Graham’s voice- clearly the man had been listening. It was probably hard not to. Thirteen stayed staring at the bin, fingers twitching slightly around the unmoving plumage. “Know what?” she asked quietly, voice carrying in the suddenly silent flat. Yaz’s teaspoon had stopped clicking in the mug.

“That we’re here to help,” Ryan said, “And that we’re never gonna hurt ya.”

She froze, body tense. Oh, it was so unfair. They were asking for some subtle confirmation that she trusted them. It was only fair, after all. They had given up everything, they had lost… so much, so much precious and wonderful. Couldn’t she fly down and rest on their outstretched arm just for a moment? She didn’t dare look at any of them- she didn’t want to see the hope painted on Yaz’s face, Ryan’s caring gaze, Graham’s slightly bitter expression. She felt the sudden, powerful encroachment of confinement. A cage of obligations, bars made of promises and owed favours, a tether of trust around her ankle to keep her from flying away.

She selected two more feathers from her bundle and tossed the rest in the bin, walking from the kitchen without another look at Yaz, who she heard follow, pursuing her into the living room. Ryan and Graham were peering up at her from the sofa and her eyes flitted away from theirs as soon as they tried to meet them. She wouldn’t look at them. 

“Thirteen,” Yaz begun, and she turned to study the young woman’s shoulder, “We’re trying to tell you you’re safe with us. I know it’s hard for you to accept, but I _promise_ , we wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

Now she knew they were lying to her. Tiny little hooks that snared her wings would snap her feather-light bones if she tried to leave. Grace’s departure had already ripped her open and left her bleeding, and every day Ryan, Yaz and Graham wormed their way further into her treacherous little heart. Very soon she’d be hopelessly ensnared in a web of attachments that would choke out any hope of escape. She already hurt so, _so_ much. Every kindness was a debt that would dampen her wings, every moment of caring weighed her down and dulled her instincts.

“I’m tired,” she announced suddenly, turning on her heel, “Think I’ll get a few hours rest before we head out this evening.” Her voice was mortifyingly thick, snarled with pain, frustration, fear. She jerked her hand awkwardly in an attempt to toss the moulted feathers in Ryan and Graham’s direction, but they simply fluttered erratically to the ground between her and them. She carried on into one of the bedrooms and shut the door firmly behind herself.

They didn’t follow her. She inhaled a sharp breath through her nose and closed her eyes, trying to hold back the hot tears that were fighting for existence in the corners of her eyes. She pressed her fingers to the wood of the door and lent her head against it, trying to calm her restless heart and still it’s fluttering.

***

Yaz tried not to spend too much of the walk peering at Thirteen, but it was difficult not to. The woman had vanished for a few hours and reappeared, flighty and nervous as ever, clearly not interested in discussing the latest not-quite-tiff. Ryan had been baffled, she had been hurt, but Graham hadn’t seemed surprised.

_“Shouldn’t have tried to get her to say she trusted us out loud,” he had said sagely, shaking his head and clicking his teeth sadly, “We made her feel trapped.”_

_“Think she’ll ever feel safe?” Ryan had wondered worriedly, face creased with concern._

_“She felt safe with Grace,” had come the exhausted reply from Graham, every word heavy with grief, “She… she loved her, I know she did. Then she lost her almost straight away. That’s gotta make it even more complicated than before.”_

Thirteen was looking a lot less troubled now. She strode with purpose, hood up and eyes focussed absolutely on the street, flicking nervously around with inhuman precision, cataloging everything around them. Yaz could practically feel the hopeful excitement fizzing in the woman, and she wondered for about the hundredth time what her friend was like. It was odd to imagine Thirteen having _any_ friends, apart from them if they counted. The feather she had brought back was gargantuan, longer than Yaz’s forearm, and as they slunk through Vauxhall, the young police officer felt curiosity overtake concern.

They stopped by an innocuous door to a flat and Thirteen pressed a doorbell with one hand, while the fingers of the other hand flashed rapidly on the burner phone. The hallway was unassuming, and Thirteen wasted no time leading them into a lift at the end of the corridor. The doors slid shut before she pressed a single button on the floor selection. Yaz watched as the numbers climbed, eyes widening as the number passed the listed floors. She caught Ryan’s eye and he shrugged.

“He’s good with technology,” Thirteen had obviously spotted them exchanging glances and her lips twitched into a grin as the doors slid open, “But don’t tell him I said that, his head’s big enough as it is.”

The doors had opened onto a darkened hallway and she strode confidently along, whilst Yaz followed, somewhat unnerved by the silence and dark. It was obviously a disused floor, but Thirteen wasn’t perturbed. She stopped at the door to number ten and knocked. There was a long pause, and then the door opened.

A gangly stranger was framed in the doorway, a dim, cosy kind of light illuminating him from behind. He had sharp, intelligent eyes- just like Thirteen’s, Yaz thought- spiked brown hair, and an expression of pure joy as he stood back to let them in. They all scurried into the flat from the hallway, Thirteen leading.

It was a cosy, if slightly chaotic space. Half deconstructed items were scattered about, as were notebooks and newspaper clippings, lamps, plants, posters and piles of books. They filed into a cosy living room and a young woman who didn’t look to be loads older than Yaz glanced up from the sofa, a brilliant smile blossoming on her face as she stood. She strode towards Yaz, and she held her hand out to the young woman, but the stranger instead flung her arms around Yaz in a hug.

“Hi, Rose,” Thirteen smiled, wings escaping from underneath her coat in an excited motion, and the woman let go of Yaz and beamed at the experiment warmly. 

“You’ve found a flock!” Rose was very clearly a native Londoner, and a fiery kind of love radiated from her. It reminded Yaz a little of Grace- incredibly kind, but absolutely resolute. Thirteen nodded shyly, glancing at Yaz, Graham and Ryan, before the taller of the flat’s occupants entered the room.

He strode over to Thirteen and immediately wrapped her in a fierce hug, his eyes screwed shut with emotion as he stooped to squeeze the diminutive blonde. Yaz exchanged an alarmed glance with Ryan, but to their collective surprise Thirteen didn’t seem to mind. She returned the embrace just as fiercely, and the man brought enormous white-striped brown wings forwards, wrapping them around her until she all but vanished from view behind them. They were truly massive- taller than Thirteen’s entire body, the tips of his primaries touching the floor as they folded around her.

Rose had crossed her arms and was smiling fondly at the pair, glancing sideways and Yaz, Graham and Ryan, who were all gaping at the scale of this new experiment’s wings. His head lifted from behind the wings, eyes bright as he looked at them, a smile splitting his face.

“Thank you for keeping her safe,” he breathed, drawing his wings back behind himself with a rustle. Thirteen unfastened her arms and started to turn, but the other experiment seemed reluctant to let her go. “Ten, I’m fine, get off,” she protested, wiggling out of his spidery arms and turning to Ryan, Yaz and Graham. Graham snorted at that announcement, and Thirteen shot him a betrayed glare.

“I’m Ten,” the man said, striding forwards to offer Graham, then Ryan and then Yaz a long, pale hand, shaking theirs enthusiastically, “Seriously, thank you so much- you have no idea how relieved I am- we were so worried about her, we owe you big time.”

“This is Ryan, Graham and Yaz,” Thirteen offered, gesturing to the trio, “I… they-“ she took an uncertain little breath, shoulders tensing as she blinked, alarmed, at her companions. Yaz picked up her nerves and took over.

“We’re from Sheffield,” she said, “We- some wolf men attacked Thirteen at the hospital, we wanted to help get her out of there.”

“Graham’s wife… didn’t make it,” Thirteen added quietly, and Ten glanced at her sharply, eyebrows knitted together, before he turned his suddenly aged gaze on Graham. It was an unnervingly old expression on such a young face. “I’m… so sorry,” he said, voice full of sincerity, so much so that even Graham looked caught off-guard, his eyes wide and bright. “Thanks mate,” he muttered, blinking rapidly, “Grace loved Thirteen, she wanted to see her safe one day. We thought… I’m just trying to honour her memory.”

Ten stilled, his head bowing for a moment before he turned to lock glances with Thirteen, who was giving him a pleading gaze. Something united them in a moment of pain, some shared suffering they weren’t letting on. Once again Yaz was struck by how very old they both looked- Ten was more jovial but his posture had the same curved shoulders and shadow of worry that Thirteen’s did. Something Thirteen had said to Grace, when Yaz had first met her, came back into her mind. _I’m not safe anywhere_. Ten seemed like he knew that just as well as Thirteen- his attitude was more personable but he was hidden away in a secret flat on an abandoned floor that he controlled all access to. He had reacted to Thirteen as if she’d come back from the dead.

Was their hope of some day finding Thirteen safety futile and foolish? She didn’t want to think so, but the grim look going between the pair, frozen like statues of angels, filled her with doubt. Maybe their new friend really was doomed to a life on the run. But then, Ten had somehow managed it. She wondered how he found the will to keep going, when it must’ve felt like the whole world was out to get him.

“Ryan, Yaz, Graham, I bet you haven’t had much decent to eat,” Rose offered, breaking the silence, “Want dinner? Or a cup of tea, or both?”

“Tea would be great,” Graham said eagerly, seizing on the distraction, “I’ll come help you make it.”

Rose beamed at him and gestures towards the hallway. “Yaz, Ryan, make yourself at him, sit down, have a rest!” She called as she led Graham into the hallway. Yaz glanced anxiously at Thirteen, catching the woman’s eye. The blonde nodded with a strained smile, folding her arms around herself. “You guys go ahead and relax,” she suggested, “I- me and Ten need to catch up, is that okay?”

“Of course,” Ryan said, and Yaz nodded, wandering over to the sofa and flopping onto it. Considering how much they had trying to impress on Thirteen that she was safe, it was amazing how scared she had been, and how little she’d realised it until stepping into Ten and Rose’s welcoming little flat. To truly sit down and feel reassured that they were safely hidden away… her head flopped back onto the sofa and she closed her eyes blissfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHAPTER NEW CHAPTER
> 
> Yaz: thirteen don't you trust us?  
> Thirteen: -hysterical laughter- wait oh god you're serious holy shit-


	10. we're still the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirteen and Ten exchange heartfelt words and Thirteen reminisces on the bad old days. Ryan and Graham clear the air... somewhat. Rose teases Yaz.

Ten led Thirteen to a tiny little study- a desk piled with the same sort of clutter as the rest of the flat was crowded with- books, papers, and a laptop that was still switched on. The wiry man closed the lid and turned, eyes sweeping up and down her, expression wide open and painfully full of worry as he held her shoulders.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, voice thickening and catching, as he examined her keenly. His sharp eyes didn’t miss anything- she saw them zero in on the scratches on her face, the bloodstains on her shoulder, and dark anger snapped in the normally kind brown. “Jay, you look tired,” he said finally, quietly, and Thirteen felt a little rush of warmth as he used the nickname, “I wanted to come after you but-” he swallowed and looked away, and she felt a wave of sympathy for him. He had always been one of the more emotional out of them all.

“I know why you couldn’t,” she said, laying a hand on his arm with an exhausted smile on her face, “We all agreed.” They had long since realised that if they were to go flying in every time the lab captured one of them, they were handing the scientists a dangerous tool. It had hurt, it felt heartless. Yet another moment of humanity denied to them- the right to chase, to rescue. One, ever the pragmatist, had been the first to bring it up- holding her back bodily as she made to leap into the sky in pursuit of Twelve, her panic overcoming her senses as the little van disappeared from view.

  
_ “Think, will you,” he snapped, old fingers like vices around her arms as she strained, agonised, watching helplessly as the erasers left. She felt hot tears start in the corner of her eyes and she wrenched herself free, turning to him.  _

_ “How could you do that?” she gasped, shaking her head, “You just let them take him, you didn’t even try-” _

_ “Listen, you silly child,” One drew himself upright imperiously, colossal wings of striking black and white stripes flared out in irritation, “If they think that taking one of us will bring the others running, do you know what they will do?” _

_ She didn’t want to understand him, she wanted to be mad at him, furious at him for stopping her saving Twelve, for letting the scientists win yet again. _

_ “Do you want them to think we’re close? To think that we care for one another? Don’t you see how that would backfire?” The fury suddenly buckled, as One’s eyes fixed distantly on the horizon. Thirteen sagged, her own indignant rage exhausted as she accepted what One was saying. “It’s cruel, I know it is,” he sighed, wings lowering along with his gaze, which travelled sadly over Thirteen’s face. “You’re the youngest,” he murmured, shaking his head, “If he were here, he would tell you the same thing. You do him no favours by letting them think you care about him. They would only use that to try and catch more of us.” _

_ Thirteen felt tears starting in her eyes. It was so unfair. “Twelve only got caught because he was trying to warn me,” she murmured, head bowing in shame, “If it wasn’t for me-” _

_ “Now you listen here, young Thirteen,” One spoke with so much authority she was startled into looking up, eyes wide, “We don’t chase one another back to the lab. But that doesn’t mean we don’t look out for one another, hm? Any one of us would have done the very same. As your forebears, so to speak, it’s only right we’ll look out for you.” _

Ten was staring down at her now with all the hurt and helplessness she’d felt then, and she shrugged her shoulders, eyes focussing on his face as she remembered something urgent. “Wait, let me check your neck,” she said, motioning for him to turn around, which he did, hesitantly. She sighed in frustration and grudgingly asked him to kneel down so she could check, pressing her fingers into the back of his neck.

“Jay, what-”

“Nothing,” she breathed, sagging in relief, “Sorry, they- Grace- Graham’s wife-” her breath choked sadly in her chest and Ten turned anxiously, peering down at her. “She- she found- she removed- there was-” sobs bubbled from her chest and she pressed a fist to her mouth, breathing through them roughly as Ten pulled her into another hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sighed, stooping until his chin met the top of her head. Thirteen tucked her head more securely into her friend’s chest and gave into grief for a moment.

* * *

Yaz dozed, half asleep, until Graham came back into the living room with a mug of tea. She stretched, back protesting, and smiled sleepily at the older man, who favoured her with one in return. Rolling her shoulders, she stood up, making space for him on the sofa next to Ryan, and he sank into it, looking pleased.

“Rose said she’s makin’ dinner,” he announced, “I said you might have dietary requirements but I wasn’t sure, Yaz.”

“Thanks, Graham, I’ll go and see what she’s making,” Yaz said, touched by the older man’s thoughtfulness. He nodded and she wandered into the hallway, rolling her shoulders. It was a small, cosy flat, and the kitchen was immediately obvious- she could still hear Ryan and Graham chatting quietly as she wandered into the space.

“Oh, Yaz, perfect,” Rose said, standing up from where she was crouched in front of a freezer, “I don’t have any veggie stuff, I’m so sorry- I’m just doing a load of chips and sausage rolls for everyone else, but-”

“I can just have chips,” Yaz smiled, and Rose grinned at her. “Girl after my own heart, you are, Yaz,” she said, as she emptied an entire bag of frozen chips onto a tray and popped it unceremoniously in the oven. “Did you want a cuppa?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Yaz said, leaning against a wall as Rose picked her own cup up, eyeing the woman curiously. She only looked to be a few years older than Yaz was, but she had a much better handle on all of the oddness that came of hanging around with the experiments than her, Ryan and Graham did.

“You haven’t known her very long, have you?” Rose commented, a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she watched Yaz over the rim of her mug.

“Few days,” Yaz replied, raising her eyebrows with a helpless smile, “It sounds mad, I know-”

“Nah, it doesn’t,” Rose said, shaking her head, “I was the same. Bog standard nineteen year old until this… angel shows up on my estate. I got in between him and some erasers- the wolf men-” she added quickly, and Yaz shivered at the memory- “Yeah, nasty- wrong place at the wrong time, and all of that, but they would’ve ripped me apart if it hadn’t been for him. And, well, I couldn’t stay away after that.”

“How long ago was that?” Yaz wondered, trying to imagine some day sharing a flat with Thirteen. The thought gave her an odd trembling sensation in her chest.

  
“Oh, few years now,” Rose shrugged, “We spend most of our time trying to keep track of all the other experiments, and occasionally swooping in and saving them. Well, John does most of the actual swooping,” she joked.

  
“John?”

The blonde’s expression grew distant and cool.

“Didn’t feel right just calling him a number,” she murmured, setting her mug down. Yaz felt something in her chest twist a little in empathy. “They got told they weren’t people when they were really young,” Rose continued, eyes hard, “He jokes and acts a prat, but he’s just as hurt as yours. He chose it himself but he still thinks of himself as “Ten” first.”

“Did Thirteen ever pick a name?” Yaz wondered, and Rose fixed her with an intent gaze, shaking her head.

“Never. She never had anyone she trusted before, outside of the family.” A tiny smile played around her lips as she examined Yaz curiously, “Until now, anyway. You really like her, don’t you?”

Yaz felt oddly flustered by Rose’s heavily meaningful grin, which only widened as she stammered, lost for words. “I- we all do,” she said evasively, “I- I mean-”

“I can tell you all do, don’t worry,” Rose said apologetically, although she was still grinning, “Not everyone you just uproot your life for, though, is it?”

Yaz was quiet and pensive for a moment, chewing her lip. “Do you have family?” she wondered aloud, and Rose nodded, watching Yaz carefully as she answered. “I see my mum, every now and again. When it’s safe to. She doesn’t live far- I wanted to make sure we could get to her, just in case.”

“In case what?” Yaz shivered, feeling like she already knew the answer. Rose was just watching her.

“There are risks, Yaz,” she murmured, expression closed, “You know that, I’m sure. Think long and hard about how far you’re all willing to go.”

“I’ll go as far as it takes,” Yaz answered automatically, touching a feather inside her pocket. She didn’t know when she had decided- properly decided. She was cut loose, adrift from her home, her friends, her job. But she was sure she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Rose was eyeing her with a slightly dark smile.

  
“Welcome to the club, then.”

* * *

Ryan was trying to avoid Graham’s gaze, but it was pretty impossible in the warm, cluttered flat, and with the constant threat of danger finally subsiding somewhat, he was struggling to continue to come up with ways to fob the old man off. They had always had a frosty relationship- Graham was always a little too quick to criticise him, to take his Nan’s side, when he was on his Nan’s side. In the few days since she’d been gone Ryan felt like he’d aged infinitely, and he realised on balance, perhaps he was feeling a little threatened, a tiny bit jealous. Graham wasn’t all that bad. In fact, in all of this, he’d been the most unwavering. Yaz seemed to have no clear idea what she was even doing with them all, and Thirteen… was Thirteen, with all the enigma that came with that. But Graham was doggedly following a moral compass that Grace had set and that Ryan understood.  _ Do what’s right _ .

“Reckon we’ll all be safe here a bit, eh?” Graham tried, and Ryan grimaced, before turning to the man and attempting a smile.

“Yeah,” he replied awkwardly. Their lack of communication wasn’t helped by the fact that the entire situation was absolutely insane, far beyond Ryan’s experience, or surely any of their experience.

“D’you reckon Thirteen’ll be safe here?”

Ryan considered that, frowning intently. It was bizarre and wonderful to see Thirteen as unguarded as she was around Ten, but she doubted the flat could hold another experiment permanently- and surely Thirteen would feel like a third wheel around Ten and Rose. But maybe this was all she’d been after.

“I don’t know if she’ll be safe anywhere, honestly,” he replied to Graham’s question at length, leaning forwards and running a hand across the back of his head, “If they went as far as to put a chip in her, who knows what else they’re gonna do. I mean, what kind of sick b-” he caught himself, shooting Graham a sudden, guilty glance, but the old man just laughed darkly, shaking his head, the amusement turning sour on his features as Ryan watched.

  
“I’m thinking it too, don’t worry- just don’t say it around the girls,” he muttered, “Thirteen’s language is bad enough as it is.” He shook his head, expression distant, before his eyes found Ryan’s.

“Suppose you don’t wanna just leave her here and go home, then?” Graham’s question didn’t sound convincing- maybe slightly wistful, and Ryan frowned, shaking his head. 

“Nah, I don’t,” he said forcefully, “Why, do you? ‘Cause I was pretty on board with all this, and I thought we was on the same page for once.” Graham nodded slowly, looking from Ryan into space again. 

“Nah, I don’t either,” he echoed Ryan, “But, son, we’re gonna have to think about this a little bit. I- this is seriously insane. What about your qualification, what about your life? And I’m not bein’ funny but we aint exactly got infinite resources here.”

“Oh Graham, give it a rest, will you?” he sighed, leaning back into the sofa and studying the ceiling, irritation sparking. “We just got somewhere safe, let’s just enjoy it for a moment, yeah?” He was irritated because he didn’t have answers, and he didn’t want to not have answers. For a moment he saw the situation through Graham’s eyes, and realised that the old man was worrying less so for himself, but more for him and Yaz. He felt a little guilty, and glanced sideways, to where Graham was lent forwards tiredly. “Look, it- it’ll be alright. I don’t mind this, I really don’t. If it means I have to miss out on some stuff- I don’t mind.”

“And what if you get hurt, Ryan,” Graham asked, voice oddly quiet and still.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” Ryan joked in a panic, eyes widening. Oh, of course. He was scared to lose someone else he cared about. He hadn’t realised he counted as that.

  
“‘Course I’m worried about you!” it was Graham’s turn to sound annoyed, and he frowned now, rounding on Ryan, “What, because we aint exactly had the easiest relationship I’m not gonna care about you?”

Ryan felt guilty and he shrugged awkwardly. “I dunno, I- I mean I-” he shuffled nervously, suddenly feeling the walls of the flat collapsing in around him, “I haven’t exactly given you that many things to like about me,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze.

“Ryan, I don’t care. You had a right to take your time to get to know me, and maybe get to like me. You didn’t really have a choice as to whether or not I became part of your life- I know that can’t have been easy. And I know you loved your Nan as much as I did.”

  
Ryan blinked up at the old man, eyes bright. Normally, he would’ve been irritated at being made to think about the one thing he’d been avoiding like mad. Goodness knows the last few days, Graham had tried to bring it up and he’d brushed him off repeatedly. But something had changed, somehow. Perhaps the adrenaline and irritation were finally wearing off. Or possibly the constant threat of danger had softened him up. Or maybe it was Graham’s determination to keep following Grace’s advice, well past many people might have given up, that had finally convinced Ryan that Graham was telling the truth. He had loved-  _ did love _ \- Grace just as much as Ryan did.

“I’m glad-” he started awkwardly, before coughing and looking away, “I- if it had to be anyone. I’m glad it was you.”

* * *

Thirteen had cried herself raw, quietly, in Ten’s study, and finally, haltingly, told him the whole miserable story. He was the perfect listener- out of all of the others, he was by far the easiest to talk to. She loved them all, but Ten had been the first of her “siblings” that she’d ever met, and he took that very seriously. By the time she’d finished talking, she was feeling herself again, just a little, and he’d managed to talk her around to tiny bits of laughter by the time Rose called them for dinner. They poked their heads out of the study, and Rose and Graham paused in the hallway, both holding trays of food, and grinned at them.

“You two look like you’d be nothing but trouble together,” Graham observed, and Ten barked a laugh, striding into the hallway to scoop the tray from Rose’s hands easily, swaggering into the dining room. 

“Graham, we are and that is an absolute promise,” he said, as Yaz trailed in holding a bottle of ketchup. 

“How many rooms is this flat?” she asked, frowning at the dining room, “And how does it still manage to feel like you’re a total hoarder, Ten, even with it being bigger on the inside?” Ten’s eyes twinkled.

“It’s actually a few flats joined together,” he divulged as Ryan filed in and they all sat. It was still slightly crammed, and as Yaz had noticed, this room wasn’t free of the haphazard piles of books, scrawled-upon maps, and technological gizmos that seemed to permeate the space. Ten had to remove what looked like a half-dismantled toaster from the dining table before they could set the food down, and Ryan peered at it curiously.

“What did you dissect your toaster for?” he wondered, as Thirteen sank into a chair next to Ten, eyeing Graham, Ryan and Yaz uncertainly. Ryan was distracted chatting to Ten about the brainy experiment’s latest project, and Graham was preoccupied helping Rose serve out the food (he was almost as food-motivated as Thirteen, she was learning), but Yaz, sat next to her, met her eye with a smile. Thirteen returned it, feeling a little tension ease from her chest. They all looked the calmest any of them had been since they’d left Grace and Graham’s house.

The friendly chat and soft, safe lighting in Ten’s flat, the comfort of seeing him and Rose again… it was sorely, sorely needed. The exhausted misery that had been clamouring for her attention had finally been heard, and it hadn’t lessened, but at least for a second she could acknowledge it, instead of worrying about the next disaster. For one precious evening, that could keep. She wished with all her heart that Grace was here to meet Ten and Rose- she’d have loved Ten, Thirteen was sure, and her and Rose were cut from the same cloth, so fierce in their kindness. Then again, if things at the hospital had gone better, if she’d only ignored Grace and taken the chip out herself, or gotten away from them earlier… 

Thirteen shook her head to clear it, giving Ten a wan smile as he blinked at her anxiously, noticing the movement. She felt guilt creep into her expression as suddenly all the eyes on the table were on her. Was she repeating her mistakes, getting so used to Ryan, Graham and Yaz? She’d have to decide what to do soon, she realised, ducking her head between her shoulders as Graham hurriedly picked up the conversation. They couldn’t keep following her forever, and they’d have to decide what their next move would be. She blinked down at her plate, realising she was mostly moving things around on it, and shoved all of the worries forcefully from her mind to focus on refuelling properly. Survival first, everything else afterwards. The same as it always had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long since a Clipped update, I've been working on a few other bits and pieces but here we are! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I've started to get around to fleshing out the world and the characters a lot more here (these bits and pieces always existed but it was nice to actually get to focus on it for a while)
> 
> ALSO https://doctorwhoclipped.tumblr.com/ I made a tumblr specifically for Clipped (I may chat about other fics too but it's mostly about Clipped) - it's got FAQs (inc stuff like "what wings does [x character] have") and an open ask if you have any nagging questions- I'd love to share my thoughts because the world actually extends a lot beyond what gets brought up in the fic so, have ye at! also, if you've made any art that you've posted on tumblr, PLEASE PLEASE LINK ME SO I CAN REBLOG IT!!! <3
> 
> I hope you're all keeping safe, it's scary scary times for everyone, I'm sure I don't need to tell y'all to be careful and stay safe <3


	11. the world tilts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning:
> 
> Death (offscreen character)  
> Blood/gore descriptions (mild)

Yaz flopped down on Ten and Rose’s sofa, feeling calmer and more relaxed than she had done in days. She moved up as Ten came in the room, but he smiled at her and shook his head, shaking his wings out.

“He takes up the whole sofa,” Rose explained, ambling over to an armchair as Ten folded his lanky limbs into a crossed legged position on the floor, wings stretched behind him.

“Wow, yeah, I bet they get in the way a lot,” Graham realised.

“You have no idea,” he muttered, as Thirteen plopped herself down next to him, her own wings fitting in his as she half-extended them. The effect was slightly strange to look at, the bars and stripes confusing the eye.

“Yeah, we had bead curtains on the door for a while,” Rose said, brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Oh don’t,” protested Ten, looking mildly embarrassed, but even Thirteen’s eyes were gleaming with mischievous interest. Rose raised her eyebrow at Ten, and he sighed in defeat.

  
“I mean, the drapes are fine,” he mumbled, referring to the soft curtains of fabric that replaced most of the internal doors of the flat, “I can move them with my hands full, quite handy, but I had this idea that beaded curtains would be quite nice looking, but-”

Thirteen stifled a giggle, and Yaz felt a delighted flutter in her chest hearing it.

“Took me hours to get him out,” Rose was laughing too, having to slot her words in between gasps at the memory. The whole room was now struggling to contain it’s laughter, even Ten, who was being a very good sport as they all spluttered.

“How are you so smart and so stupid,” Thirteen sighed fondly, shaking her head. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same,” he muttered, and she grinned impishly at him.

“So you two have known each other-” Yaz started, and Thirteen’s gaze slid from Ten to her, Ryan and Graham on the sofa, easy smile stilling ever so slightly. Something in her shoulders stiffened a little- it was like she’d forgotten they were there. Yaz tried to hide her disappointment as Thirteen attempted to breeze past the slight nervousness.

“Our whole lives,” Ten said, after a quick, unreadable glance at Thirteen, “Well. I mean, I’ve known her her whole life, I’m a bit older, but-”

“Wait, sorry, what?” Ryan interrupted, frowning, “I mean- no offense- but I thought-”

“Ten’s older than me,” Thirteen said, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

“How does that work, if you’re Thirteen? Is it reverse order, or-”

“Nah, the numbers don’t actually mean anything that we can work out,” Ten said, as Thirteen chewed her lip and shot him an anxious glance, “But Thirteen’s the youngest so far. We don’t… age in a straight line, exactly.” His skinny hand was in the air, gesturing, and Yaz frowned at the implications, trying to catch Thirteen’s eye. The woman was frowning at Ten, looking slightly puzzled.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now-” Yaz said hurriedly, but Thirteen was staring at her Ten, and something in her expression made Yaz nervous.

“Eleven’s younger than me, remember?” Thirteen said warily, and something in her expression made Yaz’s skin crawl. She felt Ryan stiffening next to her, and Ten’s expression stilled into something hollow.

***

“Thirteen…” Ten said slowly, turning to her cautiously. Oh no. She knew that tone of voice, knew that expression. The corners of the room darkened and lurched away from her as she shook her head. He only looked like this when…

“I thought you knew,” he breathed, shaking his head, “I- I- it happened last time you got caught, we-” Thirteen’s hand shook as she raised it to his temple. “Show me,” she breathed.

“Wait,” he protested, standing up and shaking his head, “I don’t think you want to see-”

“Show me, dammit, Ten,” she snarled, standing up also and flashing her fingers to his head before he could protest anymore.

_ She saw herself through Ten’s memories, and it was almost enough to throw her back into her own mind- her wings were darting back and forth uselessly as she was manhandled away, kicking and biting and struggling for her life. Ten was grappling with an eraser, kicking it furiously in the chest and standing to follow her, but there was a desperate cry of pain near him. He turned and- _

_ Eleven was laying perfectly still, his dark plum wings flared beneath him, his young face bloodless. Ten screamed and elbowed the eraser in the face, flaring his wings out and tossing the wolf man away without a second thought. The younger experiment’s neck was a mangled mess, blood drenching the dirt, and Ten stared helplessly, mouth gaping in shock. One was bellowing somewhere, hurling profanities at the retreating erasers, voice growing increasingly hoarse as Eleven’s blood continued to pool around Ten’s feet. _

Thirteen let out a blunt, horrified breath, a shaking hand lowering from Ten’s brow to her mouth. Glassy, silent grief froze her limbs and she vaguely felt her friend supporting her as she sagged into him listlessly, sliding his hands under her arms as she sagged and wrapping his wings protectively around her. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” his voice pressed into the top of her head, “I thought you just didn’t want to talk about it, I- I was-”

Her voice had deserted her, but she pulled back slightly- her world was all still within his wings, a courtesy and a safety- and shook her head, reading her own anguish in his drawn, exhausted features. “You didn’t know,” she swallowed miserably, eyes shining. Vaguely she heard Rose ushuring Ryan, Yaz and Graham out, but it was white noise, meaningless. Ten was just looking as hopeless as she felt, his eyebrows lowered in sorrow as he stared down at her- not reading her mind right at this moment, but certainly feeling the same misery. He shifted his wings as the door shut and she backed away from him, hand curling into a furious fist.

When her knuckles slammed into a wall with a crack, Ten was a moment too late to stop her, but his fingers were on her wrist a moment later, holding them firmly as she bit down furiously, teeth bared and muscles tense. She couldn’t fight the tears starting to fall silently, and after a second she stopped struggling, and his hands went limp on her arms, which she slid together in front of her, wringing them as her neck bent. She was desperate to find some solace in fighting back but- why bother? They hadn’t asked for this, but the scientists hadn’t even the decency to consider letting them be. They would close in and corner them every time, and nothing they ever did seemed to be able to stop them.

“There isn’t a word-” she stopped, punctuating her sentence furiously, breathing through her nose until her voice was even again, “There isn’t a word bad enough.”

“I know,” Ten shook his head, “I know.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Thirteen pulled her wings even more tightly to herself, shaking her head. “We can’t win,” the words came out scarcely above a whisper, skimming the lowest parts of her voice, “We can’t fight them, we can barely manage to hide from them. What’s the point in trying?”

She stalked to the sofa and flared her wings so she could toss herself onto it, a hand raking her hair as she tried to calm her shuddering breaths and restrain the tears flowing down her cheeks. Her bitterness didn’t rub off on Ten, and he sighed for a long moment, slowly crossing the room to sit on the floor next to the sofa, crossing his legs and slouching. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and she lifted her heavy eyes to his face, all the movement she could manage when everything in her was weighted down with despair.

“It- isn’t fair,” he said haltingly, “But… we have to keep flying. You can rest up here, it’s safe, I promise.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it, and she let her eyes flicker shut, clinging to Ten’s hand like it was keeping her anchored to safety.

***

Graham was feeling a heavy kind of stress that he was sure was marching him towards an early grave as he, Yaz and Ryan slumped in the dining room, while Rose filled them in on Eleven. He had been the youngest, born after Thirteen, and had been torn down by Erasers, the wolf monsters that had killed Grace.

“Exactly how dangerous are these things,” he murmured, running a hand over his face, “I mean, I- I don’t know if I can-” his eyes flickered to Ryan and Yaz before returning to Rose.

“They aren’t meant to kill the experiments,” Rose sighed, sinking into a chair and fixing Graham with a stare that was very old for such a young person, “They’re… guard dogs, in the worst way. They want them back, but John- Ten- and the others- they fight back, you know. And- sometimes accidents happen.” She was examining Graham pityingly, brown eyes liquid with kindness, “They don’t seem to go after civilians unless they’re getting between them and an experiment.”

The old bus driver could read between the lines well enough, and he didn’t like the implications of that statement a bit, chewing the inside of his cheek. He glanced sidelong at Ryan, who was staring tiredly at a wall. Yaz was paying rapt attention to Rose, her eyes fixed on the other girl’s face.

“Think you could put us up still?” Graham asked, blinking meaningfully at Rose, “Think I’m about ready for bed, I don’t know about you lot.”

“What about Thirteen?” Yaz’s eyes were instantly worried, and she looked from Rose to Graham.

“I’d leave her with John,” Rose said at length, eyeing Yaz curiously, “He’ll take care of her, promise.”

Yaz stood, looking exhausted, and after a moment where Graham was seriously worried she was about to start arguing, she nodded. He sighed in relief, tapping Ryan gently on the shoulder. The young man started slightly, blinking and stretching stiffly.

The flat really did seem to be bigger on the inside, and after settling the kids on a couple of air mattresses, Rose beckoned Graham into another room and started to pull out a sofa bed.

“I’ll help,” he said instantly, grabbing cushions, “I might be too old to spend the night on the floor, but I can still get a bed out just fine.” He gave Rose a wan smile, and she chuckled. After they’d assembled the bed, he paused.

“Rose?” he asked, and her slightly-too-innocent  _ hmm? _ told him she already suspected what he was about to ask.

“Am I leading those two kids into a death trap here?” he asked, voice mild but expression anguished. Seeing what the right thing was was becoming hopelessly complicated and it was getting harder and harder to see the path.

Rose was quiet for a long moment, a half-dressed pillow forgotten in her hands. Eventually, she looked away from him.

“You’re going to have to judge that yourself,” she sighed, busying herself with linen again, “If you stay here with us, it’s relatively safe. You saw John’s hidden entrance, and there’s a lot more besides that keeping this place hidden from view. But Thirteen wont stay here for long, she’s not like him.”

“And what is she like?” Graham said, working to catch Rose’s eye behind the duvet she was wrestling into a cover. The young woman threw the duvet over the sofa bed and turned her full attention to Graham, expression impassive.

“They’re all so hurt, in different ways,” she murmured, “But Thirteen… seems to have had an especially hard time adjusting to life outside the lab. I- maybe it’s because she’s the youngest. But Eleven, bless him-” her face washed with sorrow- “He was more like John, more open and… a little less secretive. A bit more ready to talk. Thirteen just… shuts everyone out, even John sometimes, and she loves him to death. She doesn’t like to have help, sometimes, or maybe doesn’t think she deserves it.” Rose eyed him curiously, expression shifting from melancholy to interest, “It’s why we were so surprised to see you three with her. She’s never tried to mingle with humans before, she’s always been too afraid.”

“I don’t know she thought she had a choice, when we met her,” Graham sighed, pressing a hand over his eyes, “She- Grace and me literally found her passing out from blood loss in a back alley in Sheffield, it a’int like we’re special somehow.”

“I wouldn’t sell yourself short, Graham,” Rose’s mouth twisted into a small smile, “You probably saved her life. You’ve gone through a lot to get her back to us, especially given the circumstances. Whatever you decide to do next, you’re all amazing people.”

Suddenly, the old man didn’t know where to look. He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. “It’s just… doing what’s right, in’it? Nothing amazing about that, it’s just. What needed to be done, you know?” He wasn’t sure he liked the idea that not everyone would’ve done what Grace had done, least of all because before he’d met Grace, he wasn’t so sure he would’ve done it of his own accord.

He didn’t watch as Rose quietly bid him goodnight and closed the door, and it took a long time for him to move from where he stood, staring blankly into space. He sank onto the sofabed, which gave a dismal sigh from it’s mattress, springs creaking miserably. What was he doing? He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

“I wish you were here, love,” he sighed hoarsely to the empty room.

***

When Yaz loped sleepily into the kitchen the next morning, Ten was already in there, a forgotten cup of tea cooling next to him on the counter as he poured over some scribbled notes, handfuls of papers shuffling. He glanced up as she walked in, glasses flashing, already dressed in a pinstriped brown suit. His expression was momentarily intimidating- sharp eyebrows pulled over intense brown eyes- but it shifted into a weary smile when he saw her. “Hi, Yaz,” he said, setting the papers down and stepping out of the way, his massive wings rustling as he lifted them from where they’d been drooping on the floor, “Sleep alright?”

“Yeah, okay, actually,” Yaz said, truthfully. It was about the best she’d slept since they had met Thirteen. “You?”

“Oh, I didn’t really sleep,” he murmured with a smile, knuckling his eyes, “I’m a bit nocturnal. Barn owl and all that,” he picked up the mug of tea and took a sip, making a face that made Yaz wonder how long it had been sitting on the counter. He tossed it unceremoniously in the sink and put the kettle back on. “Want a cuppa? Or we have coffee somewhere too, I think.” His expression was deceptively innocent, eyes wide and earnest as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Uh, I’m okay, thanks,” Yaz smiled, “Listen, I- I know it happened a while ago but I’m sorry about Eleven. Rose told us about it all last night.”

Ten’s smile stilled and slid into a deeply grieved expression, something desperate and pained burning in the depths of his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, the words coming out low and reluctant, “I- I really thought…” he glanced in the direction of the hallway, “I thought Thirteen knew, she was there. I just assumed she wasn’t bringing it up because she-” a tiny huff of breath and a sad smile brought his gaze back onto Yaz, “Well, you know, you’ve spent time with her, right?”

Yaz nodded slowly, twisting the end of her plait around her finger. “She’ll be blaming herself, wont she?”

Long fingers on the side of a mug froze, Ten stilling save for his eyes, which once again glittered with some unspoken emotion. He blinked, gaze dropping into the depths of his tea.

“We all do. Eleven wasn’t the first of our own we lost, and every one of them feels like my fault. And Thirteen being caught and dragged back there feels like my fault, too.” With what looked like an immense effort, he dragged his face back into a smile, turning back to her.

“We don’t have the luxury of wallowing in self pity, though. There’s too much work to do just to keep being free.”

Yaz felt an enormous rush of respect for Ten. His smile stayed determinedly buoyant, light and breezy even in the face of so much heartache and danger. She felt her own grin tempted out of hiding by his earnest warmth and she shook her head, marvelling.

“Where is Thirteen, anyway?” she asked.

“She slept on the sofa,” Ten replied, holding out two mugs with a twinkle in his eye, “Why don’t you see if she wants a cup of tea.”

***

It was a rare occasion that Thirteen slept so late into the morning. She wasn’t really asleep, not fully, but she resisted every attempt by her surroundings to rouse her into consciousness. She wanted to stay bundled safely on Ten’s sofa, breathing in the nameless familiar scent and covered with a thick protective layer of duvet.

A polite tapping at the door served to do nothing but drive her further into the covers, balling her legs even tighter into her hollow chest and screwing her eyes up with a feeble moan.

“Thirteen? Can I come in, I’ve got tea.”

Yaz. Thirteen groaned again, louder, and even she wasn’t sure what the noise meant.

There was an expectant pause before the door clicked timidly.

“Thirteen, you should have something to drink,” Yaz’s voice was unbearably gentle. Thirteen lay still under the covers, looking at the palm of her own hand.

“Come on, please,” sighed the young police officer. She wasn’t going anywhere without what she wanted, clearly. Thirteen groaned and slowly, gingerly began to right herself, peering from under the covers with dry, stinging eyes.

Yaz was hovering by the door, and as Thirteen emerged she badly disguised a wince of dismay. That tracked- she had slept horribly, the night full of horrors that kept her from getting much decent rest. Ten had stayed with her, soothed her as best he could, but whenever she calmed down enough, she remembered that the worst part of the nightmares was all too real.

“Thank you,” her voice was dry, scratched and hollow as she accepted the cup of tea from Yaz, who padded over to the armchair and sat into it, cross legged, examining Thirteen pityingly. The experiment sighed into her tea, which she sipped tiredly, too miserable and exhausted to try and chase off the persistent young woman.

“I’m so sorry,” Yaz mumbled.

“Thanks.”

They both drank their tea in silence, Thirteen’s gaze drifting from Yaz to nothing at all, although she could feel the woman’s eyes on her all the while.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” Thirteen said at length, blinking dolefully at Yaz, “It’s a mess. I really should- be more grateful. You’re putting your neck out for me here.”

Yaz was already shaking her head.

“Thirteen I- I know you think you don’t deserve friends and help and kindness but you’re wrong, okay? It’s not unreasonable to have friends who care about you.”

Thirteen rested her empty mug on the coffee table, running a hand through her hair and stretching her stiff wings out.

“Didn’t Rose explain to you last night?” she sighed, staring the young woman down, “Can you really not see it? If we have friends, they can end up dead.”

“Ten has Rose,” Yaz protested, eyebrows pulled up sadly as she met Thirteen’s gaze steadily, “Don’t you think you’re allowed friends as well?”

Thirteen opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it abruptly. Scaring Yaz didn’t seem to sway her. The woman was like a determined burr, insistent on sticking around through everything in spite of her constant warnings, arguments, and honestly unfriendly behaviour. For some crazy reason the trainee officer had decided she needed to be a part of this. Memories of Ten’s lost friends, of Eleven ripped open, of all the times people had gotten hurt or killed at the hands of the erasers, would stay for now in Thirteen’s head. For the moment, they were all safely hunkered down in Ten and Rose’s flat. And although Yaz, Ryan and Graham hadn’t been around very long… it was reassuring to know they were nearby. She could take at least a bit of comfort knowing they were all safe, and all here.

She ran a finger around the top of the mug, feeling very small. “I might not be much use today,” she admitted, shuddering with a sudden yawn, “You guys might have to wait another day before I can think of plans.” Grief was more tiring than Thirteen remembered, and she didn’t feel like she could do a single thing that didn’t involve sitting listlessly on the sofa.

“We’ll be okay, Thirteen, take all the time you need. And let me know if you need me to bring you more cups of tea, yeah?” Yaz had stood and was grabbing Thirteen’s mug with a kind smile. Worn down by grief and tiredness, Thirteen could only nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back in the house
> 
> I promise it didn't take me like a month to write this chapter, I have written an absurd amount I'm just changing the way I write so stuff is coming out slower but it'll be worth the wait I promise
> 
> anyway sorry to ice 11 and also I hope everyone is staying well and safe etc etc


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